


Up in Flames

by PeppyDragon



Series: Bitter End [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bianca is a Sweetheart, Blue Hawke, Drama & Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Monogamy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Hawke/Varric Romance Arc, Multi, Occasional Red Hawke, Polyamory, Porn, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 87,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyDragon/pseuds/PeppyDragon
Summary: Their father is dead, their mother is catatonic, and the Hawke siblings have nothing to show for their lucrative past but a handful of sovereigns. Whereas they were once known Ferelden-wide for their thaig breaching and treasure hunting, the children find themselves looked down upon in Kirkwall, beset on all sides by financial backers who want nothing to do with them. Until, finally, one decides to take the risk.The ties that bind the family begin to unravel as Carver, Bethany and Marian Hawke find their own paths and voices - all of which lead away from one another. Hawke finds herself spiraling, unable to voice the conflicting emotions inside of her, and chooses to drown herself in alcohol and casual sex. But the more time Hawke spends with her financier, Varric Tethras, the more she realizes that she doesn't want casual - she wants him. Her backer. Her partner. Her best friend... and the closest thing to real love that she ever expected to find.* Modern Thedas AU || Dragon Age 2 and Dragon Age: Inquisition spoilers *





	1. Obstacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke and Carver meet Bartrand and swiftly learn they dislike him. Hawke and Carver meet the more amiable Tethras brother and discuss a plan to get their expedition funded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hello all! As usual, I don't own a damn thing.
> 
> This story's inspiration song goes out to ["Broadripple is Burning," by Margot & the Nuclear So-and-So's.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3EIQofQf9NloNNmvg45MFE)
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song goes out to ["On My Way," by Reo Cragun.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6TC0snyor5XOJzP6dGxRkn)

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

 

"No."

"You can't just say no without reason!" Carver Hawke exclaimed, looking frantically between his sister and the gruff dwarf before them. Marian Hawke looked composed, as she always did, and it only made Carver prickle more. "Andraste's ass, Marian, say something!"

Hawke cleared her throat and uncrossed her arms, leaning forward to support her weight on the chair in front of Bartrand Tethras' desk. "Master Tethras, I understand that you would be taking an insurmountable risk, getting metaphorically into bed with us-"

"I don't know you humans from scum at the bottom of my boot," Bartrand interrupted, both confirming and insulting her in one fell swoop.

"Even so," Hawke tried to steer the conversation back to her point, "we have the track record. We've been doing this for five years, we've found countless bounties, and we've never lost a man who followed orders. We're the best damn subterranean explorers Ferelden had ever seen."

"Ferelden," Bartrand repeated, snorting. "And you _were_ the best. I saw specials on you back in your heyday and, yes, I will admit it was impressive. But you lot are in Kirkwall now, not two coppers to rub together, and all of your gains spent to get you into Kirkwall to avoid the Blight. You have no men, you have no collateral, and there is no reason that I should play ball. Why would I invest in you blowing a hole into Sundermount and getting yourself - and my hirelings - killed? Kirkwall isn't Ferelden, human. We don't put blind faith in pretty faces. If you want me to consider you, get your shit together and don't come back until then."

Carver was thrumming with anger but Hawke grabbed his arm before the heat of his hatred could spill out and through the office. "Thank you for your time, Master Tethras. I assume that once we have collateral, men, and some funds, we could come back for another meeting?"

Bartrand sighed, something wet rattling in his lungs as he did. It took everything within Hawke to not shudder at the noise, her hand tightening on Carver's forearm to keep him still and quiet. Finally, Bartrand grunted in their direction. "Get all of that, and I will _consider_ sponsoring."

"Thank you," Hawke said, trying to sound pleasant but feeling the hollow echo as it slid out of her mouth. She pulled Carver along, not even bothering to turn to him when he made an annoyed noise and yanked his arm from her grip. The elevator carried them down to the glittering, gilded lobby. Hawke walked with a confidence she didn't feel, trying to keep her heart from rupturing in her chest, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

Bartrand was their last chance. They'd been turned down by all of the moneybags in Kirkwall. She understood that, financially, it was a risk for these men. The Hawke siblings were Fereldan, filthy turnips to the Kirkwallers, and had been untested in the city. They were unknown since arriving in Kirkwall six months ago; all of their former glory was just that - former. It was hard to brag about their accomplishments to Marchers who didn't know the difference between South Reach and the damned Korcari Wilds.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Carver insisted loudly as they walked through the Financial District. Hawke's intense and volatile little brother always managed to turn heads, which he was currently doing as they passed through a crowd of dwarven traders. "He was our last shot!"

Hawke turned sharply, and Carver nearly ran into her, not expecting her to have stopped. Hawke wanted to hit her brother across his dumb face, but that would only result in more unwanted attention. "Listen to me," she hissed softly, eyes narrowing. "I get that you're upset. I'm upset, too. Bethany is home right now, scared out of her mind, and this was our last chance to get some money and get some power between them and us."

Carver swallowed, thinly veiled hatred bubbling beneath his surface. _Them._ The Templar Order. The force that policed and protected; though they tended to do much more of the former than the latter in Kirkwall.

"You need to keep a lid on it," she continued, pleased to see her words seemed to be landing on Carver's usually deaf ears. "You and I are all Bethy has, yes? For us to protect her, we need to be here for each other, not getting into stupid spats in the middle of the city. We need to have one another's backs. We need to find someone who can get us an in, okay?"

Carver looked as though he wanted to fight her on it, but he gave in and nodded. He even looked a little guilty as he ran a hand through his unruly black hair. "Alright, you win. But what will we do now that-"

Hands were suddenly on Hawke, pulling her into a brutish hug from behind, sliding down her waist, to her hips, and then her ass. Hawke shouted and flailed, elbows shoving back into the slender chest behind her. The hands fell away in the midst of a coughing fit, and Hawke turned to find a young man, no older than Carver, holding his ribs. "I'm sorry!" the man wailed, words slurring. "I thought you were Ana."

Hawke blinked at him before glancing around. The dwarves near them were chuckling, but there was something malicious about it, something out of place. It almost felt as if Hawke was missing a punchline to an incredible joke. "It's fine," Hawke finally replied, stepping away from the man. "Try not to let your Ana see you groping other women, though."

The man smiled at her, but it was an unusual simper as he slipped into the crowd, disappearing around the corner and out of view.

"Well that was odd," Hawke said softly, brushing her hands down her jacket and tank top, hesitating as her hand scraped over the back pocket of her jeans. "No." Her hand slid into the pocket, fishing around even though the pocket was small and her wallet was not. "No. No, nonono, _shit!_ The little fucker stole my wallet!"

The dwarves around them snickered and it took all of Hawke's willpower not to kick the closest one. Carver was already off, his burly body tearing through the crowd and leaving a clear path for Hawke to follow.

When Carver finally came to a stop, Hawke sidling up beside him, they found the thief on the ground, groaning, a dwarf shoving a boot into the man's kidney. The dwarf was holding Hawke's wallet, thumbing through it.

"Hey!" Hawke shouted.

The dwarf met her gaze, his smile spreading. He glanced down at her wallet, at the identification card there, and then back at Hawke. "Good thing you came by when you did," he began, voice a throaty grumble that held more amusement than Hawke had felt in her entire life. "I was thinking about pocketing the wallet and leaving all the stuff inside on the ground. Good leather, nice stitchwork." He winked to let her know he was joking before tossing the billfold back to her.

Hawke caught it effortlessly, sliding it into her side pocket. Her father had always warned her about keeping her wallet at her back - _Too many men will grope you and fall away before you realize they were after your coin, not your ass, Marian._ Once again, she should have listened to her father. A small pang flitted through her chest. She should have listened to her father while he was still with them, while he was still looking out for them.

"Say sorry to these nice people," the dwarf was saying to the man on the ground, pressing in a little harder against the man's kidney and making him squeal in pain, crying out his apologies in a high, keening voice. The dwarf glanced up again, meeting Hawke's eyes. "Should I let him go, or do you think some street justice is in order?"

Carver snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes to Hawke. "We should string him up outside Gamlen's. Show the others we can protect ourselves."

Hawke winced, shaking her head. "Let him go. He won't bother us again."

"I won't," the pickpocket agreed pitiably. "I swear I won't!"

"Piece of advice," the dwarf murmured, picking his foot off of the man, "don't work the Financial District until you can snatch a beer from Norah at the Hanged Man without her noticing." The thief was up and stumbling away from them, holding his side and coughing. The dwarf was grinning, the afternoon sun glinting off of his impossibly straight, impossibly white teeth. "Well, then," he said, looking back to the siblings, "you two are the Hawkes, and I am Varric Tethras. It is a pleasure to meet you both. I wish it had been under better circumstances-"

"Wait, _Varric Tethras?"_ Carver interrupted, eyes narrowing. "We were supposed to be meeting with you today, but you were two hours late. We had to meet with your jackass brother-"

"Carver!" Hawke snapped, gripping his forearm for what felt like the hundredth time, her nails biting into his flesh. "Shut up!" She cleared her throat and offered the patient dwarf an awkward smile, "Um, so... hello."

Varric's grin was blinding and distracting, but Hawke was quite fond of it already. "Sorry about leaving you with my brother this morning. I had something pop up last minute and needed to deal with it first. Anyway, I heard from Bartrand that he turned you down for the startup funding and sponsorship?"

Hawke swallowed and nodded, releasing her brother's arm, allowing him to sulk quietly beside her unimpeded. "Yeah, basically. I assume there's nothing you can do about that?"

Varric glanced beyond the siblings, and Hawke turned to find Bartrand watching them from the door of the Tethras building, fury on his pinched face. Hawke thought of waving toward the man, just to see if his reddening face might burst, but instead turned back to the more jovial Tethras brother. "I think you've been spotted."

"Busted," Varric confirmed, turning his smile between the siblings. "So, how about this. To apologize for leaving you two in the bronto den with that curmudgeon, let me take you to dinner and hear your pitch."

"It's too late for that," Carver muttered. "Your brother turned us down."

"Well, my brother isn't the only dwarf in the family with some money to invest," Varric said simply, shoving his hands into his rumpled pant pockets. "Think about it. I'll be down at Guerdo's at the docks around seven. Hopefully I'll see you there." His honeyed eyes lingered on Hawke for a moment, his lips turning up, and Hawke felt herself returning the grin.

"We will see you then," Hawke confirmed, not bothering to hit Carver for his loud groan of displeasure. She had to physically stop herself from turning to watch the dwarf's casual stride toward the gleaming building he and his brother owned. Instead, she turned her smile to Carver. "A second chance and free dinner, Carver. Try to look excited, would you?"

Carver huffed, annoyed, and the pair headed back toward Lowtown to tell their sister the news.

 

* * *

 

"Marian, you look like you rolled out of a gutter."

"It's a meeting dinner at the _docks,_ Bethany," Hawke groaned, leafing through her limited supply of clothing for something somewhat clean. "I doubt anyone will care if I have a bit of dirt when everything smells like red tide and fish carcasses."

Hawke was spun around from where she had been digging through their shared closet. Bethany gripped her shoulders tightly, brown eyes boring into Hawke's blue ones. "Listen to me, Sister," she began firmly. It was the same tone Leandra Hawke used when she was calling Hawke out for being a brat. "Mother is counting on us to get out of here. We cannot stay here with Gamlen extorting money out of us, and Mother close to comatose."

"Mother isn't-"

"She is a walking ghost, Marian," Bethany interrupted, eyes hard. "I am stuck in this hovel that reeks of piss and mold, tending to a grief-stricken widow. This expedition is up to you and Carver." Her voice dropped a bit. "Let us be perfectly honest; this is up to you alone. Carver is too hot-headed and could blow everything with no notice or provocation. We need you to make this dwarf invest. If we do not get out of here, and if we do not have money to pay off the Templars or status to hide behind.... Do you understand?"

Hawke pulled her sister into her arms, holding Bethany close. "I understand, Bethy. I do."

Bethany pulled out of Hawke's arms and smiled brightly. "Good. Now, get into the bathroom and take a shower."

Hawke grumbled but did as asked. She turned the water in the ancient tub on and undressed, humming to herself to keep her mind off of Bethany's words. Everything was up to her. Everything was riding on her shoulders.

_No pressure, Marian._

"Oh! Marian!" Bethany called through the door. "The hot water is out again!"

Hawke heard the words, but they didn't register until she got under the icy spray of water, shrieking like a schoolgirl. Bethany, from the other side of the door, giggled.

 

* * *

 

Hawke felt like an idiot. Bethany had insisted on dressing her in one of their mother's dresses to appear more ladylike. Why Hawke needed to appear genteel while asking for money to go diving into caves and rooting around ancient thaigs for treasure was beyond her. Even so, Bethany's _you're our only hope_ speech was still jingling through Hawke's mind and made her give in to being dressed up.

The dress wasn't anything special, really - a black off-the-shoulder sheath that hit Hawke's tall frame mid-thigh in spite of it reaching her mother's knees. Bethany, to combat the bunching cloth from Hawke's less ample bosom, added a blue leather belt that Hawke had never seen before. She hadn't asked about its origins, not wanting to discover Bethany had stolen it or that one of Gamlen's women had left it there. The shoes were, thankfully, a tasteful pair of flats. Hawke had never mastered walking in heels - probably because she had never tried. Something was sinister about the spired shoes that made Hawke imagine falling down the innumerable flights of stairs all over Kirkwall.

Carver, however, was allowed to go to the dinner meeting dressed in his usual odd assortment of clothing - ripped jeans, combat boots, a teeshirt that once sported a band name - now worn beyond recognition - and a leather jacket. He hadn't been forced to bathe, either, but Bethany had explained it away with, _Marian, you're the beauty and Carver is the brawn._ When asked what she would be in their merry band of misfits, Bethany replied as if it was apparent. _The brain, of course. Now, get to the docks. Tardiness is never appreciated when one is pleading for money._

And so they went to the docks, wandering between the workers and tourists and beggars. For once the place didn't stink of rot. Hawke was hopeful that the smell of sea brine and fresh fish meant that the red tide had passed in the months since she had last been to the docks. She assumed it had - who invited people to a seafood restaurant when all of the fish on their plates could kill them?

They entered the restaurant, and a sweet-faced hostess greeted them. Her eyes lingered on Carver for a bit longer than necessary. "The Hawke siblings, I presume? Master Tethras is awaiting you. Please, follow me."

As they weaved through the rustic wooden beams, guests, and tables, the woman made idle chat with Carver. Or tried to. "I haven't seen you around, have you been to Guerdo's before? We have the best seafood in Kirkwall, as well as the best hamburgers and Starkhaven-style pasta. Sort of odd things for a place like this to serve, I suppose, but with the red tides showing up more often than not-"

"Did the algae bloom die off, then?" Hawke asked, taking pity on her brother. His jaw had set into a hard line, his discomfort with the hostess glaringly obvious.

"Oh, um yes, about a month back. We've tested all of our fish and have not accepted anything with traces of K. Brevis. Our food is as safe as always," she smiled sweetly.

They passed through a glass door leading onto a balcony overlooking the Waking Sea. Varric Tethras was seated at an intimate table, thick fingers swiping across a tablet, teeth worrying his lower lip. He glanced up as they approached and beamed, putting the tablet away in a satchel beside him. "Hawkes, welcome." He got up and shook Carver's hand, much to the man's confusion, before coming over to Hawke. His grin turned slightly mischevious as he reached for her hand. "I would kiss your knuckles, but with your history, I'd be afraid you'd hit me."

"For you, I might settle for a light slap," she replied smoothly, surprised at the sudden confidence the dwarf seemed to inspire. She shook his hand, their fingers lingering a bit before Varric broke the contact and pulled a chair out for her. As Hawke sat, Varric said, "Andrha, could you have one of the girls bring us a bottle of your best Cava and another bottle of Soave?"

"Of course, Varric. Nellie will be out shortly." Andrha bowed a bit at the waist before ducking back inside of the restaurant, leaving them to their quiet balcony.

The three sat silently for a few moments before Varric cleared his throat. "I seldom like talking business over a good meal, so why don't we get that part out of the way? What kind of financing are you looking for?"

Hawke cleared her throat, glancing at Carver. He sat stonily, eyes unblinkingly boring holes into Varric's forehead. "Well," Hawke began haltingly, "in Ferelden we made a small fortune as thaig delvers, spelunkers, whatever you want to call us. We would find weak points in the ground or pre-existing sinkholes and exploit them to get below ground. We rarely came back empty handed, but it happened occasionally. Most places we managed to find had never been accessed before. We've found countless dwarven artifacts, weapons, even golems. In a few cases, we've run into some drakes and made a hefty profit off of scales and fangs."

Varric nodded, steepling his fingers in front of him. His cheerfulness had faded to a businesslike calm, and it was oddly intimidating. "I've read up on your family, of course. Lots of good stuff from Ferelden publications. I assume the reason you are out of your previous wealth was the travel here from Ferelden?"

Carver grunted something, but Hawke interrupted whatever he thought he needed to say. Everything was riding on her shoulders. She couldn't let her brother ruin this for them. For Bethany. For Mother. "Right. We lost a third of our coin securing passage for our family and a friend, and the rest was spent getting into the city."

"Your uncle is Gamlen Amell," Varric began. It wasn't a question, but Hawke nodded anyway. "He's infamous for spending coin he doesn't have. Does that have something to do with your destitution?"

"How dare you?" Carver snapped.

Hawke stomped on his foot under the table, wishing she was wearing her usual boots. They would have done more memorable damage than the satin flats she was currently sporting. "Gamlen did swindle us out of some of our coin, yes, but that was nothing compared to those reasons I mentioned before. It was hardly enough for a month's worth of food, let alone funding an expedition of this magnitude."

"Of this magnitude?" Varric repeated. Hawke swallowed; she'd said too much. Varric could easily take her intel and hire his own crew. As if sensing her thoughts, Varric laughed, spreading his fingers in a surrendering motion. "Alright, I get it. Keeping some cards close to your chest. I can't say I blame you; you don't know me from a hole in the ground. You three are professionals - I know you're not trying to swindle me."

Hawke blinked. "Three?"

Varric's smile widened. "I assumed your sister would be accompanying you."

Their waitress, Nellie, chose that moment to bring their menus and wines. She and Varric made small talk while she opened the bottles and let them breathe before having him sample them. Hawke took a moment to reach under the table, grabbing Carver's leg and squeezing. "How did he know?" she breathed.

"We need to go," Carver hissed back. "Marian, he could have sent Templars to Gamlen's while we've been sitting here. Bethany could be-"

Nellie had left and, in the sudden quiet, Carver's voice seemed to have carried to Varric. "Your sister is completely safe from me," Varric assured them, standing and reaching over the small table to pour their glasses for them. "I only knew of her existence because she was mentioned, _very_ briefly, as the third daredevil Hawke sibling. I found it strange that her face was never on the cover of the magazines or in the body of internet articles. Maker's balls, she doesn't even participate in social media. There are only a few reasons for that kind of secrecy nowadays."

Hawke and Carver watched him, waiting. Hawke's breath was caught in her chest, making it impossible to come up with an excuse.

"We don't need to talk about that, though," Varric said quickly, sipping his wine and smiling. "If she's a Hawke, I am sure she is delightful."

"The best of us," Hawke confirmed quietly.

"So, tell me. What resources will you need before you're ready for a dive into the abyss?" Varric asked, changing the topic effortlessly.

"We would need men, hirelings. At least ten. By my estimate, the thaig we're looking for, the Valdasine Thaig, hasn't been breached since the First Warden ordered an expedition to research it. The last access was probably sometime in 5:23 Exalted when the Wardens began their expedition, but the arrival of the Fourth Blight drew them back before much got discovered."

Varric looked impressed. "How did you find out about all of this?"

Hawke flushed slightly, glancing over at Carver who shrugged. "We, ah... we met a Grey Warden back in Ferelden. He had maps, old ones, and information about the first expedition. There were a few places to enter, according to his maps, but I prefer the above-ground descent through Sundermount." At Verric's raised brows, she added, "It seemed the most reliable and least likely to cave in."

Varric didn't seem to believe her hasty excuse but didn't press. "Strange you should mention a Grey Warden with maps. Bartrand started getting ideas after you visited him and remembered a piece of info he got from one of our spies... ah... workers. There's a Grey Warden here, somewhere in Darktown, and he has maps."

Carver bristled. "What?! He's planning on stealing our expedition from us, and you just let-"

"Simmer down, Junior," Varric interrupted. "I didn't let him do a damned thing. I overheard his ramblings and decided to seek you lot out before he could get to the Grey Warden. So now it's your job. Find the Warden and get the maps and we'll chat about funding."

"We chat about funding now," Carver growled. "Your brother is a lying cheat, how do we know you aren't, too?"

Varric put a hand to his heart as if he was wounded. "Goodness, Junior, you have a temper, don't you? Too much time below ground, I bet. All that darkness has got to lead to grumpiness." He turned his amber eyes to Hawke, and his smile was back. "You've got my word, Hawke. You get me those maps, and I will personally help you fund this thing. My own money and everything."

"Why would you help us screw over your brother?" Hawke asked.

Varric chuckled, sipping his wine. "As far as I can tell, sweetheart, he's screwing your family over. I'm just trying to do the right thing. And Bartrand's a prick, and I quite enjoy watching him fume." Hawke smirked, and Varric raised his glass to her. "To our future."

Hawke held her glass aloft and clinked it with his, echoing, "To our future."

Carver, true to his nature, grunted and refused to participate.


	2. Old Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric and Hawke discuss their joint venture, Hawke and Carver track down the Grey Warden from their past, and Varric decides to introduce Hawke to the Hanged Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> **No real chapter warnings other than some tame-ish texting between Varric and Bianca.**
> 
> This chapter's song inspiration goes out to ["Paperthin Hymn," by Anberlin.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6VSmHLLvYAAkzrYFT3LloU) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

It had been a relatively uneventful day for the youngest Tethras brother. He had spent more time than he cared to admit rearranging pens on his desk. He wasn't sure why he had so many pens. The only times he used them was to sign his name on contracts, and Maker knew that required four pens, max. One for him, one for the client, and two for backup.

Varric wasn't sure why he was anxious enough to be worrying about his plethora of pens, or why he had arranged them on his desk from black to blue to red to green. Why did he even have a green pen? Did anyone ever use green pens? Not for contract signing; that was just unprofessional.

While Varric stared the line of pens, fanned out like soldiers on a front-line, the door to his office flung open and Bartrand, always one from a dramatic entrance, stormed into the room. "What is this?" he demanded, tossing a stack of paper in front of Varric. The pens scattered, the green one falling somewhere against the back wall.

Varric blinked slowly, glancing at the papers before his gaze slid back to Bartrand. "Good morning, Brother, glad to see you looking well. Each morning I wake up and wonder if this is the day when the demons of anger and sloth overtake you and you die."

"What the fuck is that?" Bartrand repeated, unable to be cowed as usual. That didn't mean Varric didn't try, though. Oh, how Varric tried.

"Well, Bartrand, it looks like a contract. Something topped with my name, by the way, so I'd appreciate if you stopped stepping on my toes here."

"You are signing them?" he demanded. "You're signing the Hawkes?"

"We haven't worked out all the details yet," Varric began slowly, shrugging nonchalantly and leaning back in his leather chair. It squealed in protest, taking a little air from Varric's sails. He might have been eating out one too many nights a week recently, and his chair seemed intent on reminding him. "They still need to find some capital and workers, but otherwise things seem to be on the right track."

"You know I was going to be doing this," Bartrand hissed. "I told you I was looking for the Grey Warden with the maps."

"Funny you should say that," Varric drawled. "The kids mentioned that they knew a Grey Warden in Ferelden. His maps of this thaig evidently gave them the idea. What do you think, Bartrand? Is this just coincidence that they know someone exactly like the man you're looking for? And if they _do_ know him, who is he going to help? Them? Or you?"

Bartrand's face was blooming into the perfect shade of red that made him almost disappear against the crimson wall behind him. "You are a traitor to our family name."

"By not letting you fuck over a pair of kids?" Varric chuckled and shrugged. "Than I guess our family name doesn't amount to much, does it?"

"You dare?" Bartrand sputtered, shaking in his barely withheld rage. "If I could, I would-"

"Strip me from the business?" Varric pressed, picking up his cell phone when it chimed. "Disown me? I've heard it all before. Don't slam the door when you-"

But Bartrand was already through the glass door, letting it crash behind him. Varric winced, sure that this would be the last straw for the poor glass; that it would finally shatter, spilling its innards through the office and receiving room outside. It held up once more, however, and Varric turned his attention back to his phone. A grin stretched across his lips as he saw the text.

 _Bee - 11:15 am_  
Hey you. Hope I didn't make you too late for your meeting yesterday... ;)

 _Me 11:17 am_  
You know you did. Turned out I missed a pretty good one.

 _Bee 11:17 am_  
Oh?

 _Me 11:18 am_  
No worries, I had dinner with the potentials, seem like a good fit. And they piss Bartrand off. win-win.

 _Bee 11:18 am_  
Are we still talking about that Ferelden brother and sister?

 _Me 11:19 am_  
Yep

 _Bee 11:21 am_  
Is she pretty? The sister.

 _Me 11:22 am_  
For a human? Knock-out. Better be careful, you might just lose me to a spelunker.

 _Bee 11:25 am_  
Well, we can't have that. I suppose I should remind you what you're missing out on occasionally.

Not a minute passed before Varric's phone buzzed with a received photo. In it, Bianca Davri was in a bathtub, the bubbles doing nothing to hide her ample bosom. Or the hand that had snaked between her raised legs.

Varric swallowed and considered closing the shades to his door and taking advantage of the picture immediately. He saved it to the folder with all of Bianca's photos, her extraordinary brand of torture, and sent back:

 _Me 11:27 am_  
Hmm, might need to send more. Not sure if this will hold up for long. I'm meeting the sister again tonight.

A lie, but Bianca didn't need to know that.

 _Bee 11:27 am_  
You're a louse.  
_Bee 11:28 am_  
I'll be in Starkhaven next month. Will I see you then?

 _Me 11:29 am_  
Wouldn't miss it.

 _Bee 11:30 am_  
Good. Now take care of that massive erection you have between your legs, and I'll take care of this throbbing between mine. xoxo

 _Me 11:31 am_  
xoxo

Before Varric could open Bianca's photo again, his phone buzzed with two more messages. From Hawke. Varric winced. After all of his teasing with Bianca, the timing for Hawke's communications was uncanny and mildly uncomfortable.

 _M. Hawke 11:31 am_  
Varric, it's Marian Hawke. I don't mean to disturb you, but we located the person of interest and we're going to see him tonight. Hopefully we'll have the goods in a few hours.  
_M Hawke 11:31 am_  
Could I come by in the morning?

Varric glanced over the texts a few times, smirking. She spoke as if she was in espionage and unintentionally awful at it. It was somehow adorable.

 _Me 11:35 am_  
Good news first thing in the morning? Please do. How do you take your coffee?

It took a few minutes for her to respond and Varric laughed aloud when it came through.  
  
_M Hawke 11:38 am_  
Black like my soul, Tethras, what do you take me for? A damsel?

 _Me 11:39 am_  
Damsel was never a word I would attribute to you, oh mighty slayer of thaigs. Go get our "goods" and see me in the morning _._

When she didn't respond, Varric felt a slight twinge of something like regret. He put his phone back in his drawer and turned to his computer, sliding his reading glasses onto his nose, peering through his emails.

Bianca's picture was forgotten entirely.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Anders was looking leaner than the last time Hawke had seen him. Granted, the last time she had seen him was when he was a recruit in the specialized Thedosian military, the Grey Wardens. His band had passed through Lothering, staying in the town for a time to requisition supplies, train, and inquire as to any signs of darkspawn activity. That had been two months before the Blight, but no one took their arrival to mean much. Most had chalked the Blights up to legends in her rural town.

The arrival of the Fifth Blight had taken them all by surprise, simple country bumpkins that they all were. The thought made Hawke queasy, remembering how quickly her father had fallen to their gnashing teeth and ancient weapons. How his sacrifice had allowed his children to drag their screaming and limp mother from their small-yet-charming duplex. How he had set the house on fire behind them with a flick of his wrist, finally exposing his gift and curse to the town being overrun by darkness.

Hawke let out a shaky gasp, and Carver looked at her peculiarly. "Do you need to go back?"

"What?" she breathed and then chuckled uncomfortably. "No, I just... if anyone should be unnerved by this, it should be you." Carver shrugged and said nothing in response, crossing his arms and waiting for Anders to finish with his patient.

The Grey Warden mage had taken up the healer's banner, it seemed, and was running an illegal clinic in Darktown. It wasn't something Hawke had ever expected out of him - a kitten sanctuary, perhaps, or a pet daycare. Not a medical ward, patching bulletholes and mending broken bones. Granted, she had only known him for a month, and even then she didn't know him as much more than _the guy my brother fell in love with._

Anders, as if feeling the siblings' eyes on him, glanced up from the boy he was mending. His eyes flashed a startling blue, making Hawke jump in surprise before Anders smiled hesitantly, the glow gone. "Carver! Marian! I'll be just a moment."

Hawke waved an acknowledgment before turning around, her back to Anders and her eyes widening at Carver. "Did you see that?" she whispered.

Carver looked unusually concerned instead of perturbed. "Trick of the imagination."

"For both of us?" she pressed.

Carver set his jaw and, as usual, refused to answer her.

Anders only took a few more minutes with the boy before sending him off to his parents, receiving no payment and wiping a heavy line of sweat from his brow. He approached them quickly, smiling wanly. "I am glad to see you made it out of Ferelden in time. How is your mother?"

Hawke and Carver exchanged glances before Hawke murmured, "She's... been better. Father died in the darkspawn attack on Lothering. She hasn't really... been herself since."

Anders' face fell, and he reached out to them both, putting reassuring hands on their elbows. He didn't say anything; that was something that Hawke appreciated more than she thought she would. Everyone else had offered sympathies, had volunteered their assistance if needed. No one had just accepted their words and provided quiet comfort in response.

"We actually came by to ask you something," Carver began, clearing his throat and pulling away from Anders' touch. "The maps. Do you still have them?"

Anders' eyes widened, and he glanced around them as if someone might overhear. "Let me close the clinic, and we can have dinner." He shut the doors, setting the bar locks to not allow anyone in, and led the pair into a back room. It held a small bed and tiny kitchen, the entire area only a few hundred square feet.

"I have soup, salad, sandwich things," he prattled, seeming to purposely avoid looking at the siblings as they sat on the only free space, the bed. "I'm sorry, I don't have the time or money to go to the store often-"

"We ate," Hawke lied quickly and Carve grunted his agreement. "But you should eat. You look exhausted."

"It's taxing, this work," Anders admitted. He went about heating a can of soup on the small stove. "But rewarding. I needed something to do with my hands, some kind of good. This... this was what I came up with."

"It's noble," Hawke said supportively.

"About those maps," Carver said, seeming unimpressed with the whole ordeal. He met Anders' gaze and held it, unwavering, unsmiling. "Do you still have them?"

"What do you need them for?" Anders asked hesitantly before shaking his head. "What am I talking about? Of course you want the maps to find the most impossible entrance to the thaigs so you can go do your stupid cave-diving thing."

"Cave-diving would require it being underwater," Hawke yawned, leaning back onto her hands. "We don't do that."

"You _do_ cave-dive because your favorite thing is finding or making entrances as far aboveground as you can, then diving in face-first."

"I don't think rappelling down a rope in abseiling equipment counts as diving into a cave face-first," she replied smoothly, grinning up at him. She'd missed their banter; Anders' emotional statements and her factual retorts. It almost felt like arguing with her brother - if her brother wasn't such a shit all of the time.

"Do you have them?" Carver pressed, voice hard enough that Hawke elbowed him for being nasty.

Anders bit the inside of his cheek, kind eyes focused on Carver. The former Grey Warden looked tired and ashamed under Carver's heavy gaze. "I do have them. I'd be willing to share them with you, even, on one condition."

"Anything," Hawke said before Carver could be rude.

Anders hesitated. "I would like you to donate some of your earnings to the clinic. We're understaffed; I need nurses, I need tonics and materials. Andraste's mercy, I have a pregnant woman due in seven months, and I have no equipment for delivering-"

"Of course," Hawke said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing the short space to take Anders' hands in hers. His fingers were like icicles and trembled with fatigue. "Anders, of course. We would have come sooner if we'd know you were-"

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, squeezing her hands. "I know, Marian. Don't worry about me; I have been keeping under the radar... for obvious reasons." He winced before adding, "How is Bethany?"

"Safe, for now," Carver interrupted, getting to his feet. "We need to get back to her and Mother. The maps?"

"Carver," Hawke chided.

"It's fine, Marian," Anders chuckled, releasing her hands. His soup was beginning to bubble, but he didn't seem to care. "The maps are under the bed in a white binder. You are welcome to grab them, or if you file out I can-"

Carver sighed and ducked down in the small space, glancing under the bed. His hand snaked under it and withdrew a slender white folder, flipping it open to look inside. "Alright, we're done," Carver said brusquely, pushing past Hawke quickly and roughly, forcing her against Anders' chest.

She pulled herself away from Anders, cheeks flushing and muttering apologies. The always-sweet Anders only smiled. "He is still mad at me I take it?"

"You think?" she chuckled humorlessly, brushing a short lock of hair behind her ear. "You _did_ leave without word or warning."

Anders winced. "I... I couldn't find the words."

Hawke shrugged and glanced behind her toward the door. "It was still shitty. I get it; you didn't want the angst of a goodbye. But he mourned. I don't blame him for still being mad. For being such an ass, sure, but not for being mad."

Anders nodded, having the grace to look embarrassed. "I would like to try to fix things. I never expected to have the chance, but...." He trailed off for a moment, looking wistful. "If you will have me, I would be willing to help on your expedition. I can offer no funding, but the Deep Roads and the thaigs are never safe. An additional healer could prove useful. I know Bethany is quite good-"

"Bethy isn't going," Hawke said quickly. "She is staying with Mother."

Anders nodded, frowning. "That makes sense." He turned to the stove and took the pot of soup off of the burner, setting it aside to cool. "If you need me, you know where I am."

Hawke gave him a thankful hug before leaving the clinic. Carver was nowhere, and Hawke sighed heavily, loitering outside of Anders' door. She checked her wallet, counting out her coins to see if she had enough money for a cab. It was getting late and walking through Darktown alone, even for someone capable at self-defense and fleet of foot, was not a risk she wanted to take.

Hawke checked her phone, and then the darkening alleys, before texting Carver.

 _Me 07:02 pm_  
What the hell? Where are you? I would rather not die walking home tonight, thanks.

After five minutes of no response, she growled in frustration. She thought about going back into the clinic and spending the night on one of the gurneys, but the awkwardness of the situation was too much. She would sooner bleed out in a dark alley than go back into the clinic while Anders struggled with their reappearance in his life.

Not to mention the clinic door had locked behind her.

She sighed and pulled up Varric's number. It was still early, but that didn't stop her from sending, _Up?_

 _Varric Tethras 07:09 pm_  
I like you, Hawke, but it's a little early in the evening for a booty call, wouldn't you say?

 _Me 07:10 pm_  
Hah. I am stuck in Darktown and it's getting late. Any chance you're nearby?

 _Varric Tethras 07:10 pm_  
I can be there in a bit if you hang tight. Where are you?

 _Me 07:10 pm_  
Darktown

 _Varric Tethras 07:11 pm_  
Yeah. I got that. Where in darktown? It's a pretty big place last I checked.

There weren't addresses in Darktown, per say, at least none that anyone knew or used. Most of the area was alleys and dark corners for the homeless and seedy underbelly to slip into the shadows.

 _Me 07:13 pm_  
I'm near the end of the last row? You can see the sea from here. There's a makeshift clinic with a bright as fuck light out front. I'm standing under it. Not sure what else to give you.

 _Varric Tethras 07:15 pm_  
omw  
_Varric Tethras 07:18 pm_  
Wait. You're at a clinic?

 _Me 07:18 pm_  
Don't make an STI joke. Please.

 _Varric Tethras 07:19 pm_  
I would never...

It only took fifteen minutes for Varric to find her. Or, she corrected mentally, Varric's cab. When Varric leaned over the leather backseat to open the door for her she realized, quite astoundedly, that the dwarf was drunk.

"It's only seven, how are you possibly drunk already?" Hawke exclaimed as she slid into the seat beside him. The backseat was small and compact, and Hawke's thigh brushed against Varric's thick, muscular one. She didn't flinch from the contact, seeing as she couldn't avoid it, but not entirely uncomfortable and that made Hawke feel uncomfortable.

"It is certainly seven, and I am certainly drunk," he agreed pleasantly. "As you could be if you joined me and a few of my cohorts for a rousing game of Wicked Grace."

Hawke chuckled, leaning back into the seat, angling herself slightly to face Varric. Her thigh pressed into his a little harder, but Varric either didn't notice or didn't care. "Well, while I would love to drink again for the first time in six months, I really don't have the money for a game or a drink."

Varric waved her away as if she'd said something especially dumb. "Nonsense. I'll spot you and, once we're all rich, you can buy me a few rounds. Or a nice new pair of slacks. I could always use good slacks."

Hawke couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips. She opened her mouth to decline, again, but her phone buzzed against her hip, and she sighed. "One second." She had to angle herself off of the seat to reach into her tight jeans pocket to fish her phone out. Her tanktop rode up on her abdomen, and she glanced over to catch Varric staring at the exposed stretch of skin.

"Interesting scar," he said, somehow not sounding as creepy as Hawke expected him to, given their current situation. "It looks like a nug. Cute."

Hawke snorted and grabbed her phone, sitting back down and righting her shirt. "No too many other guys have seen them, but I'm pretty sure none of them have called my scars _cute."_

"No?" Varric asked, brows raising in disbelief. "Well, you, my dear, have been with the wrong kind of guys. Someone who can't accept your scars can't accept you. Or... something like that."

"Did you just come up with that all by yourself?" she teased, unlocking her phone as it buzzed a second time.

 _Carver 07:38 pm_  
Sorry. Had to get out and get the maps hidden. You good?  
_Carver 07:39 pm_  
Need me to come back?

 _Me 07:40 pm_  
No, I'm fine. Varric came to pick me up.

"I think I read it in a bathroom stall once," Varric was saying, looking out the window as their cab drove slowly through the crowded, body-packed alleys. "Stored it away for future use. Seemed appropriate."

"Very," Hawke agreed distractedly, fingernails tapping as she sent a reply to her brother.

 _Me 07:40 pm_  
I might go to the Hanged Man for a bit if you guys don't need me. I'll have my phone on me, let me know if you need me back. How's Bethy and Mom?

 _Carver 07:41 pm_  
The usual. You're with the dwarf?

 _Me 07:42 pm_  
Someone had to play the knight in shining armor after you abandoned me. You ass.

 _Carver 07:42 pm_  
Weird choice for a knight, mar.

Hawke tried to think of something to say but came up blank. She knew he hadn't left so quickly to hide the maps. He'd fled because of Anders, because of whatever emotions seeing Anders had inspired. What could she tell her younger brother after he faced the man who broke his heart? How did she comfort someone who never accepted her attempts to be sweet?

 _Me 07:43 pm_  
Do you want to come to HM with me? I'll have V buy you a beer.

 _Carver 07:43 pm_  
No.  
_Carver 07:43 pm_  
But thanks.

Hawke slipped her phone back into her pocket, conscious of the fact that Varric was not looking at her this time. He seemed absorbed by something out the window, something far away. Something Hawke could neither see nor reach.

"We got the maps," Hawke murmured, trying to find something to say to clear away the thick, ringing silence.

"No work talk, Hawke," Varric chided from where he remained, looking out the window. "Work talk is for tomorrow."

Hawke sighed and worried her lip for a moment. She'd never done well in silence. While growing up, silence meant that something was wrong or someone was angry. Usually, something was wrong, or someone was angry, because of her.

Varric seemed to notice her anxiousness because he glanced at her, narrowing his eyes. "Boyfriend troubles?" When she looked alarmed, he added, "The text. Didn't seem to be good news."

"Oh, um, no. No boyfriend. Just my brother letting me know he has the maps somewhere safe and... yeah. It's been a weird night."

Varric seemed to know she was holding something back, but he let it go. Hawke glanced out her window, watching as Darktown slowly melted into Lowtown as the car climbed the steep hill into the ward. Hawke hadn't noticed they were close to Gamlen's until they were passing the squat sandstone flat. "Oh, that's me-"

"Come by the Hanged Man, have a few drinks and rest your mind for a bit," Varric offered again. "It's not far; I can walk you home whenever you want."

"I-" Hawke paused. She had been close to denying him, close to telling him her family needed her. But did her family need her? Did they _ever_ need her? Most everything that had befallen their family was Hawke's fault, after all. They would have been better off without her in Ferelden. Surely the same was true now.

"Sure," she answered finally, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "A few drinks."


	3. Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke meets Varric's best friends, wakes up in a slightly awkward position, and the crew talks logistics of their expedition. Varric meets with Bianca in Starkhaven and Bianca, much to Varric's displeasure, gets to speak with Hawke via vid-call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>   **Chapter Warnings: Feelings start showing up. Slight adult situations between Varric/Bianca, nothing too intense.**
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song goes out to ["Electric Twist," by A Fine Frenzy.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2jQ7ZztDfmt4qeW0tOMIqY) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

Varric had warned Hawke that his friends were intense. Even so, Hawke found her mouth nearly dropping to the floor when Varric introduced her to _Rivani_ \- a dark-skinned, gorgeous woman with a long tangle of hair and a tattoo of an albatross draped above her ample bosom.

"It's Isabela, actually. But you can call me whatever you'd like, darling," the woman had cooed, brushing a hand through Hawke's short tresses and clucking appreciatively. "The things I could do to you."

Hawke cleared her throat, trying not to stare down the woman's very low-cut, very sheer top. "Um-"

"Down, girl," Varric chided Isabela, swatting her hip to move her aside. "Hawke, come sit over here across from her before she starts getting ideas."

"If your lady friend were wearing a skirt, sitting across from me would be just as dangerous," Isabela quipped, wiggling her brows and she sipped from her beer bottle and slid into a chair. "Not that this challenge of jeans isn't worth pursuing. I have very dexterous toes, after all."

"Leave her be, wench," a voice growled from behind Hawke, making her jump. A silver-haired elf had come up to the table, slipping into the seat beside Isabela and passing out drinks to all of them. "So, where did Varric find you? A gutter? Contemplating death at the hands of the Waking Sea?"

At Hawke's mystified expression, Isabela chimed in, "He collects wayward souls and tries to rehabilitate them."

"If by rehabilitation you mean drowning all of their angst and self-loathing in alcohol, then yes," Varric replied, raising his beer bottle. "Isabela, Fenris, meet Marian Hawke. She's going to make us all very rich and very powerful."

"All of us?" Isabela repeated, wrinkling her nose.

"I do not need riches or power," Fenris added, picking up the deck of cards in the middle of the table and beginning to shuffle.

Varric sighed. "Then she's going to make her and me very rich and very powerful. Since you two leech off of me, that means she's making you rich and powerful by proxy."

"Ooh, well, _that_ I can deal with," Isabela hummed, finishing her beer and moving on to the second Fenris had brought over. "Drink up, hawkling - you're going to make us all rice and pudding."

"Rich and powerful," Fenris corrected, sounding as bored as one might while discussing shades of white.

"Right. Same thing."

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric awoke as he usually did - with a crick in his neck, his head pounding, and kidneys protesting the previous night of poor decision making. He rolled out of bed and stumbled into the washroom, relieving himself with a soft moan. He leaned against the wall in front of him gratefully, the world ceasing its spinning for a moment.

He finished his business before washing his hands, face, and brushing his teeth. He had a meeting with Hawke - he couldn't remember if he'd ever set a time, but more than likely she would be in his office waiting for him at nine sharp, eager to get things moving.

Varric made his way back into the bedroom, finally feeling more like a person, when he stopped in his tracks. It seemed Hawke wasn't going to be waiting for him at his office because she was curled up on his bed, her face obscured by her dark wisps of hair. She was still fully dressed, as was he, and he let out a soft breath at the realization that nothing had happened.

 _Thank the Maker,_ he thought, shaking his head as he grabbed his phone from its charger. He had missed one call and seven texts, all from Bianca. Varric was instantly concerned that something had happened to her. She should have been back in Orzammar, surrounded by her staff and her doting husband. She would never contact him if she were in Orzammar.

He opened the text chain to find:

 _Bee 01:54 am_  
Hey, just thinking about you. You thinking about me?

 _Bee 01:56 am_  
He's away on business. I thought we could talk.

 _Bee 01:59 am_  
Call me back soon. I want to hear your voice.

 _Bee 02:00 am_  
I want to make you cum while I'm on the phone with you.

 _Bee 02:15 am_  
Who answered your phone?

 _Bee 02:20 am_  
Ohhhh is that the sister? Didn't you just meet her yesterday??

 _Bee 02:28 am_  
A little late to be talking business isn't it? I want the deets, you naughty boy.

Varric chuckled and replied quickly, knowing the longer he waited, the more grief Bianca would give him.

 _Me 08:52 am_  
I wanted to introduce her to bela and broody. You know how riotous drinking and WG gets with them. And since I know you won't let it go, I'll save you the trouble of asking - nothing happened.

The response was swift.

 _Bee 08:53 am_  
Of course it didn't... you don't have the balls to make the first move :p xoxo

 _Me 08:54 am_  
xoxo

He felt a little better after the brief conversation. Bianca had never been the jealous sort; she had even told him, on numerous occasions, that he needed to find a local girl to keep him company. The only other stipulation was that the women knew about one another first. _No surprises, no secrets. That's the only way this is going to work,_ she had said years ago, right before her marriage to Bogdan.

Varric left his room quietly, descending the stairs from his apartment to the bar below. Varric loved the sordid location if for no other reason than it annoyed Bartrand, and that Bartrand refused to come around its depravity. It was also helpful since, more nights than not, Varric found himself too drunk to be trusted on the street.

Corff was cleaning glasses behind the counter, grinning when he saw Varric. "Prairie Oyster?"

"Two," Varric groaned, leaning on the bar heavily.

"Ah, right, Norah said you had company last night. Some human?"

"Just a friend, don't go getting ideas," Varric dismissed quickly, though his abdomen did clench at the suggestion. The human was quite attractive; not precisely classically beautiful, or even what turned Varric on, but she had something about her. Perhaps her toothy grin, her willingness to laugh. Perhaps her gentle nature that she tried, and failed, to hide behind a capable, no-nonsense persona.

Varric paid for the hangover cures and took them upstairs. When he arrived, Hawke was sitting up, blinking blearily around the room. Varric knocked on his own doorframe, alerting her of his presence as he set the glasses on the table. "Hey, the bathroom is through there, and I brought up something for your hangover."

Hawke stared at him for a few moments, seeming torn between laughing and bolting. She settled on the former. "Well then, Tethras. Do you usually get your clients into your bed within the first 72 hours?"

"48 is my usual," Varric replied easily, bringing the oysters over to the bed, handing her one. "I take off 10-percent of my signing fee if they're any good between the sheets."

"Gross," Hawke laughed, taking the offered drink and scrunching her nose up at it. "Does this shit work?"

"Like a dream. Bottoms up."

He and Hawke shot the odd mixture of egg and sauces, Hawke gagging a little as the strange texture slid down her throat. "Oh Maker, this is fucking awful."

"Give it ten minutes and tell me it's not your new favorite thing ever." Varric took her empty from her and set the glasses on the side table. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall; his low platform bed was short enough that, standing, he was taller than Hawke. He took a moment to admire the slender, tapered nose and dagger-like cheekbones, how her features were somehow still soft in spite of all of her sharp angles.

 _Shit,_ he thought vehemently, looking away from Hawke as the silence between them stretched out. Bianca already had her suspicions about Hawke; she was probably amused, too, thinking of Varric with a leggy human. Varric would swear up and down that he wasn't attracted to her, wasn't attracted to _humans,_ but here Varric was, analyzing Hawke like one might an ethereal creature. It wasn't a safe course of action, especially given the proximity he and Hawke would have over the coming months. Or years, depending on how successful she was as a client. Friendship was fine, but _more-than-friends_ began to push the lines of decorum.

Hawke had been watching him closely, too, until she seemed to realize the same thing. She cleared her throat and shifted, rubbing her bare arms and looking around for her jacket. "So, um," she began hesitantly, "can I talk to you about the maps?"

Varric, grateful for the distractions, nodded. "Go for it." He wandered the studio apartment, looking for her leather. "You got them; I know that much. Your friend parted with them willingly?"

"He did," Hawke called from where she was slithering under the squat bed, grunting as she felt around the floor. "He's, um... he's like Bethany. He's a healer. He offered to help us out on the expedition, free of charge."

"Sounds too good to be true, Hawke. What's the catch?"

"Nothing, seriously. He's a good guy. I promised I'd donate some of my cut to his clinic, but that's it. It won't affect your bottom line at all." Hawke sighed, pulling herself out from under the bed, frowning. "I think I left my jacket in the cab."

"No, you had it during Wicked Grace," Varric said quickly, glancing around his table. "Rivaini kept petting it, and Broody seemed a little jealous of the fit."

"Right," Hawke murmured, squinting. "Did I lose all your money?"

Varric chuckled and reached for his wallet on the coffee table and thumbed through the coins. "Nope, looks like we won a bit."

"Well, I guess the night wasn't a disaster, then," Hawke murmured, getting to her feet and gracing across the room, anxiously swaying from one foot to the other. "So, if Carver and I bring the maps over later today, could we look through the possibilities with you? I assume you have veto power since you're thinking of funding this nonsense."

"Odd choice of words, but yeah. Come by around-" Varric glanced at his phone for the time to see he had gotten another text from Bianca. _She sounded fun, by the way. Great voice. I'd like to meet her sometime, see if she can drink me under the table ;) Call me?_ He grinned. Bianca was something else. "On second thought, I have some personal shit to deal with today. Let's meet up tomorrow? I'll be in the office by ten, I promise."

Hawke's eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head. "I think I answered your phone last night and there was a woman on the other end."

Varric nodded, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "Yeah, that was Bianca."

Hawke grinned sneakily. "I see. And when do I get to meet your Bianca?"

"Who knows, never, hopefully," Varric sighed, pocketing his phone. "She enjoys embarrassing me and watching others squirm. I don't want to subject you to all of that."

"She sounds fantastic already," Hawke smirked, turning toward the front door. "I've got to get home; my sister is probably losing her mind. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, let me walk you ou-" the words died on his lips when Hawke opened the door to a box in the landing.

"Package?"

"This early?" Varric grabbed the box, which wasn't sealed, and found Hawke's jacket inside. He handed it over to her, and she actually squealed in delight, sliding into the worn leather. Her hands instinctively went to the pockets, and she frowned, pulling a piece of paper from one of them. She scanned over it, her lips tugging up at the corners as she did.

"Love note?" Varric asked.

"Kinda," Hawke chuckled. "I evidently lost the jacket to Isabela last night, but she felt bad and thought I could take her to dinner when we're _rice and pudding."_ Hawke was stilling grinning when she pulled out her phone, entering something into it. "She gave me her number, too."

"Careful with that one, Hawke," Varric warned. "She's a good kid, but she's been known to make people come undone without a single thought."

"You barely know me yet, Varric," Hawke breathed with a coquettish grin. "I might just enjoy coming undone from time to time."

As she descended the stairs and left him in the landing, Varric realized she was right - he barely knew her.

Yet.

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

The moment Hawke stepped through the front door, she was accosted by her little sister. Bethany tossed her arms around Hawke, burying her face into Hawke's neck. "Marian, I was so worried!" She pulled back, nose wrinkled. "Why do you smell like alcohol, corn chips, and..." Bethany sniffed again before her annoyance gave way to a sneaky smile. "And delicious aftershave?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, disentangling herself from her sister's arms and moving to the kitchen. "I drank a little too much and ended up staying over at a friend's. Is there any breakfast left?"

"I think Carver ate all of the bacon, but I managed to save you some strawberries and a banana." Bethany flounced to the small table, sitting as she watched Hawke move through the kitchen. "So, this friend of yours, the one with the amazing aftershave? Who is he?"

Hawke thought on how to answer as she peeled her banana. "He's that investor we were talking about. Varric Tethras."

Bethany's eyebrows rose comically. "The dwarf?"

"Bethy, I wasn't aware you had anything against dwarves," Hawke chided, loving the dark blush that bloomed over her sister's cheeks.

"What? No, you know that's not -- I just meant, I never expected you to spend the night with a dwarf."

Hawke rolled her eyes, moving her way to one of the overripe strawberries, wincing at the too-sweet tang. "All clothes remained on, and I'm pretty sure the most contact we had was when he handed me this awful hangover cure that had a raw egg in it."

Bethany also made a face. "A raw...? Ungh, Marian. Why can you not just enjoy the simple things in life?"

"Nothing is simpler than a few beers and getting laid, Bethy, but only one of those happened last night." Hawke then smirked. "One of Varric's friends, though. She was magnificent. You have to meet her; she is just... indescribable. Tits like you would not _believe."_

Bethany blushed, muttering, "Marian, what will we ever do with you?" but she also looked intrigued. Bethany was always one for gossip, though she tried to pretend otherwise. "If you were to describe her, where would you begin?"

"Other than her massive tits? I suppose the tattoo of an albatross on her chest. Or maybe her hair! Or those thighs - Maker, Bethany, you just need to meet her."

 

* * *

 

Hawke tried to contain her excitement as she watched Varric pore over the maps, a pair of small, rectangular reading glasses perched on his nose. She also tried not to admire the swell at his bridge, leftover trauma from a break - probably numerous breaks. She attempted not to allow her eyes to slide over his lips as they moved in silent words, or his solid jaw and sharp cheekbones.

Everything about his face was bewitching, not least of which his honey-colored eyes. Hawke was finding it oddly challenging to keep herself from grinning every time he looked at her. She felt like a besotted teenager, but each time she quelled the rush of butterflies in her stomach, he would speak in that friendly rumble of his, and she lost herself again.

It probably hadn't helped that Bethany used the previous day to tease Hawke about spending the night with Varric. It also didn't help that Hawke had dreamt about spending another night with Varric. A much different kind of night.

It was stupid. Hawke knew it was stupid; he had a girlfriend or lover or something. Even so, that hadn't stopped her from blushing when Varric opened his office door for them and immediately complimented her crimson plugs that matched her camisole perfectly.

"Okay, so my favorite out of these would be this entrance here," Varric murmured, pointing out a cavernous opening located off of the Wounded Coast, and breaking Hawke from her spiraling thoughts. "Minimal risk, not too much need for specialized equipment or labor. We'll be getting a little wet going in, so maybe some reinforced boots. I'll look into that."

"That would have been my choice, too," Carver added, leaning forward to look at the map, as well. He had seemed almost chipper this morning; he was probably just glad to be doing something productive.

Hawke, always one to throw wrenches into plans, frowned. "I think the Sundermount entrance would be better. There have been all sorts of seismic activity there on the Wounded Coast over the past forty years. Who knows if that passage is still open? And if it will _stay open_ with a crew stomping through it."

Varric glanced up at her over his glasses, mouth tugging up slightly at the corners. "You really want to repel down that pit, don't you?"

Hawke thought about arguing the merits of a virginal passage, layering in some sexual metaphor to sell it, but she knew Varric would see through her in an instant. "I really do. I want to repel the shit out of that opening."

Carver snorted, but he looked amused at her antics for once. "She always does this. She picks the path of most resistance."

"Those are usually the more enjoyable paths," Varric agreed, clearing his throat and sitting back in his chair. "Alright, here's what we do. We need a core group of people who can scout ahead with you. We need the laborers, which I can take care of hiring. We'll need someone to manage those laborers, someone you trust implicitly and who can hold their own in case of an uprising. Not that I expect that," he added quickly at Hawke's raised brows. "We work with professionals, but sometimes professionals get weird if they're below ground for too long."

"I can work with the laborers," Carver offered.

"Good call, you're intimidating, and your scowling abilities are unmatched," Varric murmured, brushing a hand over the yellowed pages of the maps. "Hawke, you're our fearless leader. I would rather have you stay with the main group until we break through the thaig."

"I am sensing a 'but' coming," Hawke murmured.

"But," Varric chuckled, "I know how much you want to drop in through Sundermount. According to this map, the two paths meet up here, in this open gallery in the Deep Roads," he indicated where the branches met, "and then meander into the thaig shortly after that. If you sincerely want to go in through Sundermount-"

"I really, _really_ do."

"-then you'll need a small team to go down with you. The rest of us will go in through the Wounded Coast entry and meet up with you about... four or five days later, if my guess is right. At most a week if we hit resistance down there."

"Aww, Varric, too scared to go in through the mountaintop with me?" she teased, trying to mask the disappointment she felt.

"It's bad enough I'm going to be stuck in the ground for at least a month, Hawke. Thrill-seeking is your thing; I'd rather take the easiest path and get the hell out."

"Spoilsport," Hawke breathed. She returned Varric's grin, holding his gaze until Carver cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"So, where are we with funding? What do we need to do?"

Varric handed the maps back to Carver after taking pictures of them with his phone. He tapped a thick finger on his tablet to wake it and glanced over a spreadsheet. "Well, by my estimates, we're going to need around 100 sovereigns for this expedition." Hawke hissed, closing her eyes and preparing for the letdown. "Don't look too put out yet," Varric continued. "I can put as much money as you want into this venture. The only thing with that is I'll get a bigger cut depending on how much more I put in."

Hawke groaned, and Carver sighed. "How much are we talking?" Carver asked.

"Well, if I am paying the full amount, I would be taking a 70-percent cut. The other 20-percent would go to you two. You'd still be making money so long as we find treasure down there, but it won't be nearly as much as if you can invest into it yourselves. If we do an even split of the investment, I'll take 35-percent of the profits."

Carver narrowed his eyes. "Why not 50-percent?"

Varric shrugged. "You brought me the maps; you did the legwork. Plus, if you happen to decide to make a life of this here... I want in on the future expeditions. Fixed ratio, too; I'm ready to sign right now."

Hawke didn't ask Carver if he agreed to the terms; she knew he did. This was a better offer than they had ever received before and, quite honestly, Hawke was floored by it. She reached across the table and shook Varric's hand, beaming. "You are possibly my favorite dwarf in the world."

"How many dwarves do you know, Hawke?" he laughed, squeezing her hand.

She bit her lower lip, her grin threatening to split her face in half. "That's beside the point, Varric. We're going to be very rice and pudding soon."

"Rice and pudding," he agreed, leaving Carver in a confused stupor in his chair.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Starkhaven was much more beautiful than Kirkwall, he would give it that, but the posh room that Bianca had secured for them was so lovely it made Varric's teeth hurt.

Bianca had been dozing for about an hour, curled up against him in the too-soft cotton sheets when Varric's phone buzzed shrilly. He cursed, looking up from the book he was reading. He, once again, had forgotten to turn his ringer down.

"Who is it?" Bianca mumbled sleepily, pressing her face into his side as she wormed closer.

Varric reached to the side table, unplugging the phone from its charger with a flick of his thumb and unlocking the screen. It was a text from Hawke, of course. She was the only person besides Bianca to even reach out to him on his phone. As he read over the first text, the phone buzzed with more incoming messages.

 _M Hawke 02:02 pm  
_ I know you're on vacation but Bela is threatening to break into your room, and she's somehow drunk already and freaky strong. She might have shoved me and maybe broke my wrist?

 _M Hawke 02:04 pm  
_ Nope, not broken. She's still pounding on your door though.

 _M Hawke 02:04 pm  
_ She says you promised to let her stay there while you were gone?

Varric snorted, shaking his head. "It's Hawke. Rivaini is evidently trying to break my door down."

"Oooh, drama," Bianca slid into a sitting position beside him, drawing the sheets up around her breasts. "Vid call her."

Varric raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Come on; I want to see Isabela's freakish strength for myself!"

Varric knew Isabela wasn't who Bianca was excited to see, but he sighed and sent back, _Vid calling._ He waited a few moments before calling her, awkwardly aware that he and Bianca were obviously in bed, obviously naked under the sheets, and Bianca was practically radiating with excitement.

The vid connected and Hawke's harried face filled it, the sound of the Hanged Man, and deafening pounding, in the background. "Varric, seriously, she's gonna bust down-" she trailed off, finally looking at her screen, and her cheeks reddened. "Andraste's tits, Varric, you could have just texted!"

"Hawke, it's a pleasure!" Bianca cooed, leaning forward.

Hawke's blush disappeared as her grin grew. "Is this the infamous Bianca? Maker, you're more beautiful than Varric said!"

"So are you!" Bianca exclaimed. "Varric only embellishes himself, it seems."

The sound of banging in the background stopped suddenly and Isabela's flushed face shoved in beside Hawke's. "Varric! Where did you say you left your key?" And then she squinted. "Bee! Where have you been, gorgeous? I've missed you!"

"I gave you the spare key last week," Varric interrupted. "You put it in your shirt and lamented you didn't have a bra to trap it in, but that your tight shirt would stop you from losing it."

Isabela blinked. "Huh."

Varric sighed. "Did you lose my key?"

Isabela bit her lower lip. "Maybe?"

Hawke sighed and tilted her head, raising a brow at the camera. "Well, I am off to retrace Bela's steps for the past week. We'll find that damned key if it's the last thing we do."

"You'd better, she's supposed to be taking care of my plants," Varric grumbled. "Let me know if you can't find it, and I'll get a locksmith over there."

"Aye-aye," Isabela hiccuped, squinting and muttering, "Hawkling, I think I am going to throw up."

"Well get to the bathroom!" Hawke snapped, flustered, before turning her gaze back to the dwarves. "Okay, I'll let you two get back to it. Um... yeah. Sorry."

"Call anytime, Hawke," Bianca beamed. "I can't wait to meet you when I'm in Kirkwall next."

Hawke's flush was back. "Yeah, yes, um... I'd really like that. Okay. Later, you two!"

And then she was gone, the screen returning to Varric's contact list. Bianca chuckled, a hand running through Varric's chest hair. "She's beautiful."

"Nothing is happening."

"I know," Bianca sighed, tracing a fingernail around his closest nipple. "I wish it would, though. She seems fun. Is she into women?"

Varric blinked. "I have no idea, Bianca. Do you want me to put in a word for you?"

Bianca shrugged, her smile widening. "I definitely wouldn't turn her down if she wound up in my bed."

"Neither would I," Varric admitted, wincing at the realization.

Bianca paused. "You idiot. Do something about it, then! She adores you!"

"You can't know that," Varric grumbled, setting his phone and book aside and sinking into the bed. Bianca did not follow so he frowned up at her. "Can we just pretend she doesn't exist and enjoy our day?"

Evidently not, because Bianca returned his pout. "Varric, I am an excellent study - better than you by far, Mr. Perceptive. She would follow you onto the train for Bonetown if you suggested it."

"It's not a good idea," Varric attempted to change his tactic, turning slightly to grab her waist and pull her down beside him. She giggled helplessly as he feathered kisses along her throat. "She's a client," he said between presses of skin, "and she's going to be a lucrative one. I can't fuck this up."

Bianca pushed his head back, smirking victoriously. "You don't give a damn about money, Varric. You don't give a shit about most things except the people you care for, and you seem to care for her very deeply." Bianca caressed his cheek, murmuring, "You should at least test the waters. See if I'm right."

Varric groaned, his face pressing into one of her pillowy breasts. "I'd rather see if I can get you off twice in less than ten minutes."

That one finally worked. Bianca's cheeks flamed slightly as she grinned. "You manage it, and I'm buying you dinner."

"You know I won't let you do that," he chuckled, slipping under the covers and settling himself between her legs. "Maybe dessert."

"Ice cream," she agreed before arching, a moan slipping from her mouth as Varric slid a finger leisurely around her warm sex.

"Keeping time?" he asked.

"Umhmm," she whispered, a hand in his hair. He knew she wasn't keeping time, and that only made him grin as he lowered his mouth to her.


	4. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which four months have passed, Hawke prepares for her expedition, and she becomes closer with Varric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> **Chapter Warnings/Notes: Entirely Hawke's POV. Mutual masturbation. The beginning of the expedition!**
> 
> The song inspiration for this chapter is ["First Class," by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.](https://open.spotify.com/track/7trx783SvnHhKkmgSSTIFJ) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

Four months passed in a blur. Hawke spent most of her days with Isabela, Fenris, and Anders, scrounging for work; running between Guard assignments, helping the rich track down their wayward children and spouses, and clearing out a merchant's mine of dragons. That excursion had been profitable and exceedingly fun, at least. Hawke had been so thrilled to come face-to-face with the winged terrors that she forgot to be scared for most of the mission.

The funds were slow coming, but at the end of Hawke's eleventh month in Kirkwall, she was the proud owner of 62 sovereigns and a tattoo of a large dragon twining from her hipbone to her shoulder blade. It had been a gift from her most prominent admirer, Isabela, one drunken night after Varric had regaled them with Hawke's takedown of the Bone Pit dragon.

Not that Isabela was Hawke's only admirer. She was quickly becoming the poster-child of getting shit done in Kirkwall; the attention was confusing at first, but eventually become only a slight annoyance. The most substantial perk of her newfound status seemed to consist of being supplied with free drinks at the Hanged Man on any given night.

She'd begun to spend most of her free time there, usually sitting beside Varric at his favorite table next to a noisy heat and cooling unit. Sometimes she and Varric would retire to his room above the bar to spend a quiet night watching movies or reading. Some evenings they barely spoke, wrapped up in their own heads, but they were always together.

Hawke had never expected to find some modicum of happiness in Kirkwall. She had planned to toil, to get the Hawkes enough money to go back to Ferelden when it was safe, and never to look back. But the closer they came to the day of the expedition, the more Hawke worried about just those things. Could she leave? Could she ever find this level of peace in Ferelden?

It wasn't fair to Bethany, to think these things. Kirkwall was no place for her sister. She didn't want Bethany living in fear, huddled in the squalor of their uncle's roach motel. Bethany deserved to be free, the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She deserved more than Kirkwall could ever offer her.

Maybe Tantervale. Maybe Cumberland in Nevarra. Bethany _had_ always wanted to live on the coast, and if they were within easy driving distance, then.... Hawke swallowed. Then at least she could still visit, could still see Varric.

She picked up her pace, shivering slightly in the coming winter on the wind. Autumn was turning icy too quickly according to the locals. They would be in for a severe winter, others agreed. Hawke knew nothing about the weather there, but she did know that her mostly-threadbare clothing would not hold up well against it.

She still needed to buy heavy thermals and boots for herself and Carver. She still needed to give Bethany money for essentials while they were gone. She still needed to pick up the thick sleeping bags she had ordered a month back.

They had a little over 34 hours to get everything in order, and Hawke was woefully unprepared. There was little she could do about it at ten-o-clock at night, though, so she continued her freezing trudge toward the Hanged Man, shuddering in her leather jacket that did absolutely nothing against the chill.

When she finally arrived, she found Isabela, Fenris, and Anders knee-deep in a drinking contest that Isabela was winning handily. Varric was watching them, goading them, and oddly abstaining from alcohol. Hawke approached the toasty corner of the room, slipping out of her jacket and sliding into her usual seat beside Varric, leaning over to brush a kiss across his cheek. "What've I missed?" she called over the heating unit's growl.

"Nothing much," Varric returned with a grin. He always looked so delighted when she arrived; it made Hawke's belly flutter each time. "Isabela is up to seven shots and three beers. Broody is four shots and three beers, and Anders is trailing behind with four beers and one shot."

"I am pacing myself!" Anders called between chugging.

"Less talk, more drinking!" Hawke shouted before turning her smile back to Varric. "Not drinking? Is it a reading-in-bed-until-3-am night?"

"No," he drawled, waving to Norah, signaling for four beers. "I was just waiting until you showed up. Late as usual, might I point out." He winked before adding innocently, "I thought we could have our own drinking contest... unless they need you at home?"

Hawke had planned on making a quick appearance before going home. It would be her second-to-last night to spend time with them. Even so, she found her resolve melt under Varric's honeyed stare. "Nah, they can survive a night without me so long as you plan on sharing your bed tonight. You can't leave me down here to my own devices; I'm much too impulsive."

"It's always open for you, Peaches, you know that." Norah arrived with a tray, setting down four bottles in front of them. "We can't have you getting picked up by one of these sleazy businessmen slumming for excitement."

"Nothing wrong with sleazy businessmen," Isabela chimed in, taking a brief break between drinks. "Except they usually have the worst case of whiskey dick." She glanced over at Hawke and purred. "My, hawkling, are all of your bras in the wash?"

Hawke scrunched her nose at that, putting an arm over her alert nipples poking through her camisole, trying to warm them into submission. Varric only laughed, grabbing a beer. Hawke followed suit with her free hand, clinking her bottle to Varric's. "Drinking commences in three, two-"

But Varric was already drinking. He did love to cheat.

 

* * *

 

Hawke came to consciousness on Varric's bed. She didn't have to open her eyes to know where she was; she could smell his aftershave and feel him curled up behind her, his breath fanning across her bare neck. She took her time coming to, enjoying the feeling of bees still buzzing in her skull. They must not have been asleep for long since the hangover hadn't set in yet.

Hawke leaned back a little further into Varric's warmth but paused when she realized what uncomfortable thing she was feeling tucked against the small of her back. "Oh," she said aloud, unsure why. Even so, _oh_ seemed to be a somewhat appropriate response to realizing her best friend had a sizable erection pressing into her.

She swallowed and slowly pressed back into him experimentally. He didn't move. Hawke stilled for a moment, hating that her thoughts were focused mostly on the fact that, if he woke up and took his pants off, she would fuck him without a thought. Her head was swimming, but she knew anything further provocation would be a poor choice.

Hawke closed her eyes and tried to settle into the bed, to go back to sleep, but her mouth kept watering, and her hips seemed intent on swirling slowly, rubbing her ass across the base of his cock. Varric stirred and Hawke tried to calm herself, to slow her suddenly labored breathing, to ease her circling hips. But nothing that her mind shouted at her body seemed useful.

Varric groaned softly, pressing his face into her neck. His breath was soft as he pushed into her a little harder. She moaned, unable to help herself, and Varric chuckled thickly. "This is a bad idea, Peaches."

"I know," she breathed, surprised when her voice sounded collected; seductive, even. "Have bad decisions ever stopped us before?"

Varric laughed again, pulling away from her. She let out a sigh, but his hand found her hip and rolled her over onto her back. Her eyes met his through the darkness, the only light coming from his TV's indicator bar. The hazy swathe of blue made him look ethereal. "We're drunk."

Hawke nodded before reaching down to the waistband of her legging, teasing the edge. "So we are."

Varric slid off of the bed, tugging his jeans off while watching her fingers slip the stretchy black material down her legs. He seemed enraptured. It urged her on, making her sit up to pull her camisole off. She paused at her thin, lacy bra, suddenly painfully aware of what they were doing.

"Wait," she said abruptly. Varric's hands paused on the buttons of his shirt. "I... I haven't done this in... well. In a long time. I don't know if...." she trailed off, not even sure what she was trying to articulate. She wasn't sure if she remembered how to fuck? If she'd ever really known? If she was ready for such a leap into the abyss?

Varric slowly finished unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged it off before getting back on the bed, sitting beside her. He ran a hand through her wispy bangs, stroking them away from her face. "Hawke, we don't need to do anything. This was just... this is reversible."

She swallowed. "What about Bianca?"

His grin confused her. "She's married, you know. Not trying to imply that would justify me cheating on her, of course, but she knows. She knows there might be others."

"Others, plural?" Hawke gaped.

"Not -- Maker, Hawke, no. There _aren't_ others; I'm just saying that if there were, Bianca wouldn't care. Shit, she's been telling me to go for this since I first told her about you."

Hawke swallowed down her surprise, biting her lower lip. "I don't... I don't want to fuck this up," she whispered. "You and me. We're really good together, you know?"

"The best," he agreed without a thought.

"Right. And this might change things. If we do this." They sat in silence, so close yet so far. Hawke finally chuckled, leaning back into the pillow. "But I am drunk. And horny. And I'd like to see if the rumors about dwarven cocks are true."

Varric let out a short bark of surprised laughter, leaning down to press his lips against Hawke's forehead. "What are our ground rules, then?"

It was hard to think with the smell of Varric in her nose. "We don't let this ruin our friendship."

"Of course not."

"This is just for fun. To blow off steam now and again. Friends first and foremost. If shit gets weird, we stop."

"I can do that."

"And... we take it slow." At Varric's nod, Hawke hesitantly slid a hand down her abdomen, over the numerous scars from prior missteps in the Deep Roads and thaigs, and to the band of her boyshorts. She watched Varric's eyes hungrily follow her fingers' path and whispered, "I don't think I'm ready for much yet. But I want to watch you. And... I want you to watch me."

Varric didn't need to hear anything else before he slipped his underwear off, tossing it to the floor. His cock had flagged during their awkward conversation, but a few passes of his hand along the length flared it to life, his shaft thickening with blood and making Hawke's breath hitch. "Maker, Varric, how does that even fit?"

He chuckled, removing his hand only long enough to slide closer to her, kneeling beside her hip. "With a lot of foreplay." He grabbed her underwear and deliberately slid it down her thighs, eyes never leaving the close-cropped curls between her legs.

Hawke felt as if she could feel herself getting wetter at his words' implications. She moaned softly, her fingers sliding between her folds, slowly stroking her way from clit to passage. Varric had returned his hand to his cock, matching her pace stroke for stroke, his mouth slightly parted as he watched her work.

Hawke slid a finger inside of her passage, hooking it slightly to caress across the rough bundle of nerves nestled inside. She arched, eyes closing as her desire swirled up, flaming her belly. Varric grunted a bit, leaning down to watch her face as Hawke rode out the sharp spike of heat. When she opened her eyes, she could almost see the tawny color of his in spite of the blue light dampening everything.

She wanted him to touch her, to run his thick fingers along her body and inside of her. Her eyelids fluttered at the thought, and she whined in a combination of frustration and want. She added another finger to her aching sex and began to thrust faster, watching as Varric sped up to match her.

It didn't take long for his breath to come in quick bursts. "Hawke," he wheezed, shaking his head. "I can't... you need to catch up." Hawke opened her mouth to retort, but his free hand was suddenly between her legs, a finger swirling across her clit and making her howl in pleasure. She bucked against his hand, her fingers speeding up between her legs, her release swooping over her.

Hawke came with a keening wail, pressing herself into Varric's warm hand. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and her ears were ringing with the force of her orgasm. Varric's hand was still between her legs, gently massaging her as he grunted, the hand stroking his cock speeding up. He began to pull away, but she grabbed his hip, her nails biting into him. "Hawke, I need to-"

"Bring it on," she returned breathlessly.

He released with a harsh curse, each pump splattering her stomach with ropes of come. He knelt there, head bowed, breath staggering past his parted lips. After a few moment, he shakily lowered himself to the bed beside her, a hand on his chest. "Shit," he whispered.

Hawke grinned and slid off of the bed, padding toward the bathroom. She made quick work of cleaning herself up before returning to the bedroom. Hawke slipped under the covers, curling up against Varric and resting her face on his shoulder while a hand skimmed through his forest of chest hair. She made a startled noise at the feeling, and he chuckled.

"I pegged you for one of those girls who likes her men bare."

She snorted, fingers curling through the dense thicket. "Hardly, dwarf. I am just amazed you don't show off such a glorious asset. Bianca and I would have to be fighting women off of you left and right." Varric laughed, but before he could say anything, Hawke interrupted, "Wait. You never thought I would like chest hair?"

Varric shrugged. "Some women have no taste."

She sat up on her hip, smirking at him. "You thought about whether or not I would like _your_ chest hair?"

Varric groaned, pulling her back down to him. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Probably not," she agreed sleepily.

After a few moments of quiet, Varric murmured, "This doesn't change things, right? Shit's not weird?"

"Nope," Hawke yawned. "We're perfect, Tethras."

Varric kissed the top of her head, his arm tightening around her shoulders. "Good. Then a metaphorical toast to our future rice and pudding - in and out of the bedroom."

"Rice and pudding," she echoed, already succumbing to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Isabela glanced down into the gaping maw of the Sundermount entrance, whistling. "Is it too late to join the other crew?"

Fenris scoffed at her words, stepping into his harness and adjusting the leg straps. "This path is infinitely shorter and less taxing. We'll be waiting on the other crew for a few days at the least."

"Sure," Anders drawled, shuddering. "That's assuming we don't dash our heads on something in the descent."

"Or that the rope doesn't unravel," Isabela added.

"Or come undone from that boulder."

Fenris looked contemplative for a moment. "The idiots have a point, Hawke. Are we sure this rope and that boulder will hold?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, double checking her locking carabiner and descender. "It will hold. Carver, Bethany and I have done more dangerous descents than this in the middle of the night." It was a lie, but they didn't need to hear that right now. "Just remember your lessons and keep calm. If you start to get jittery, hit the locking carabiner and I'll talk you through it, okay?" Isabela groaned, but the others nodded. "Good. Mic check."

She tapped her portable comm, and the noise thumped through the others' feeds, making them wince. The others followed suit, confirming that all was in order.

"Alright," Hawke whispered, grabbing her pack and shrugging it on. She checked her harness for the fifth time, giving the rope a sharp tug, and then nodded to the others. "See you down there."

"Good luck, Hawke," Fenris said and, for once, Hawke thought she heard some concern in the severe elf's voice.

Isabela gave her a tight hug and a kiss on the lips, tweaking Hawke's nose. "There will be more of that later if we all make it through this, hawkling."

Still reeling from Isabela's kiss, Hawke numbly hugged Anders. His arms lingered around her a bit longer than she wanted, but she appreciated his concern. "You'll be fine," he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

She smiled wanly at them all, the sudden anxiety striking her hard and fast. Pre-descent jitters, as Bethany called them. It made sense, she allowed herself to muse as she slowly lowered herself to the lip of the cavernous entrance. Not only were they about to go mucking about in a mostly-unknown, dangerous location, but Hawke also had a new crew. She used to have her siblings by her side from start to finish. Now she had a sweet, but untested, group of friends who claimed to have paid attention to her numerous rappelling lessons, but who still might have been too busy admiring her ass in its harness.

At the edge, Hawke let out a shuddering breath and flicked her comm on so she wouldn't have to grapple with it during the descent. "Okay," she said softly, "into the belly of the beast."

Gripping the rope in her gloves, she slowly eased herself over the lip, and her heart bottomed out somewhere around her abdomen. Her feet touched the side, and the rope held, leaving her facing the porous rock and breathing in sharp lungfuls of cold air. She pushed off of the stone softly, gently sliding down the rope a yard at a time, her boots crunching against the wall of the aperture as she did.

Hawke knew the cliff would drop off soon - all of them did, especially if this cave was ramiform, which the map alluded that it was. Hawke groaned softly, eliciting a concerned question from Anders, but she shook her head as if they could see her. "Everything's fine. I've found the bottom of the access. It's about... 400 yards if I were to guess. It's a little slippery, morning dew, so you guys make sure your feet are solid before moving on."

"Yes, Mother," Isabela sighed, sounding suddenly bored. The Rivaini bravado seemed to be in full swing.

Hawke would have rolled her eyes if she wasn't so focused on the rope between her hands and the rock beneath her feet. She breathed deeply, centering herself, before gently grasping her descender in her right hand, flicking the lever. The slow pull jolted her slightly as her feet left the solid wall and she slipped into the dark, dank, empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo reference for Hawke's dragon is [here](https://freetattooideas.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/dragon-tattoo-ribs-cage.jpg). I found it originally on Pinterest, and a reverse image search didn't pull up a source. If anyone knows the source, as unlikely as that is, let me know, and I will update it here. Hawke's tattoo is colored, not grey-scale, with the dragon being an iridescent shift between blood red and purple.
> 
> I'd love to give a source for Isabela's albatross tattoo, but alas - I've only seen it in person and can't find a similar one on the internet. If I'm feeling particularly artistic (and particularly drunk) this weekend, I might try to sketch it.


	5. Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter - dead darkspawn and demons, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Warnings: Deep Roads awfulness.**
> 
>  
> 
> The inspiration song for this chapter is ["Devil Like Me," by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0HsGh7cboYz6cVMIyFrQ8j) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

It took two days to make it out of the thick branches and galleries of the cave and into the more uniform, angular spaces of the Deep Roads. Varric hated the Deep Roads. The ominous red glow unnerved him. The pinpricks of open lyrium veins discouraged him. The smell of death when no bodies were present frightened him. Not to mention the somehow claustrophobic feeling in his chest, in spite of the caverns being tall and wide.

"You alright, boss?" one of the workers, a gangly human who somehow managed to carry the heaviest pack, asked.

"Fine," Varric said sharply before chucking, running a hand over his face. "I'll be fine once we get out of this stinking hole."

"Can't believe you lot live this deep below ground," the man, Beil, mused, blowing a bubble with his gum.

"I don't. I never did, in fact. This shit gives me the creeps," Varric admitted.

Beil chuckled and patted Varric's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll get you to that rendezvous in a few days, and you'll be back in your lady love's arms."

Varric just barely checked the urge to glance over at Carver. The younger Hawke was walking a few paces away, and Varric could have sworn he heard Carver's boot scrape the floor loudly at the worker's words. "I wasn't aware I had a lady love on this expedition, but thank you for informing me," Varric answered smoothly, swallowing down his frantically beating heart. "Is she pretty, at least?"

Beil noticed Carver and looked back at Varric, smirking smugly. "My mistake. I thought the flirty, chesty girl was yours."

A quick lie and said effortlessly. Varric was both grateful and mildly concerned at having someone along who was as capable as Beil at backtracking. "Isabela is no man's lady love, of that I can assure you." The dwarf hazarded a glance toward Carver. The glowering man had refocused on the spaces around them; the cave-ins that knocked free entires walls and ajar doors leading into further hallways and rooms.

"It's too quiet," Carver said suddenly, his hand lingering on the hunting knife in his belt. The cliche was too accurate for Varric to roll his eyes at; they hadn't seen a single darkspawn, and they hadn't come across a single body.

"Weapon check," Varric called down the line, stopping to feel across his own utility belt. He had been equipped with a pair of hunting knives, as had the entire crew, and a handgun with a silencer. The spare clips clattered pleasantly on his belt when he tapped them. There were more in his pack, but if he needed more than ten clips in one skirmish, they were in for a world of trouble.

"We're all good, boss," Beil alerted him after a few minutes of going down the line to check his crew. "Weapons are ready, all eyes peeled."

"Where does the map want us to go?" Carver asked, not bothering to turn to Varric.

Varric pulled out the photocopied and laminated map, glancing over the branching tunnels and along the path he had marked for them. "We just passed through the second open chamber, so it looks like we're going to keep heading straight for about... five miles. The tunnel ahead will be blocked off by a cave-in, according to this, and that is where we turn right."

Carver nodded absently, brow furrowed. "Alright. Press on."

Carver's hand had still not left his hunting knife.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke was sure that her boots would never thoroughly dry. The thick, hardy leather shoes had been sitting by the fire for the past two nights, angled to let the heat fill the wool inside, and yet they were still squelching with wet while she walked. She should have known that there was going to be a thick layer of water when they landed in the cave. Ramiform caves always had water; it was how they formed. How she hadn't remembered something so simple....

Her boots would probably start molding soon, Hawke realized with an internal groan. She hoped she'd brought enough socks with her because the last thing she wanted was her moldy shoes becoming moldy socks and then moldy feet.

The group had traveled in relative silence for the first few days, much to Hawke's surprise and pleasure. The trio at her back was unused to such things; except Anders, of course, but he never liked the Deep Roads. Because of everyone's rising tensions, the others kept the conversation to a minimum over the comms and Hawke was grateful for it.

Day three seemed to end that trend, however, because Isabela sidled up beside Hawke, looping an arm around her waist. "So," she murmured in her infamous faux-whisper, "you and Varric. How long?"

Hawke's throat closed for a moment before she laughed. "Trying to usurp him as my best friend?"

"Oh, darling, you are as adorable as you are transparent. Did you ever wonder why we insisted buying you dinner every time you were at the Hanged Man? You were so obviously half staved and downtrodden like a beaten puppy. No money, no food at home. You tried to deny it, but did we believe you?" Isabela squeezed Hawke a little tighter. "You can't hide things from us, hawkling."

"Tell her the truth," Fenris sighed, coming up to join them, his voice dropping lower. "She'll only hound you more if you keep lying. You have a tell, by the way."

"No I don't!" she insisted incredulously.

"But you do, hawkling," Isabela hummed, pressing a finger against Hawke's cheek. "Your cheeks twitch when you're lying. It's this strange little tick. I'm not sure how you've never noticed it, it's quite obvious."

"Distracting, even," Anders added, suddenly closer behind Hawke; so close that she could feel the breath of his words fluff her hair.

Hawke huffed, consciously trying to keep her cheeks from twitching. "I do not have anything with or for Varric."

"Lie," Isabela cooed.

Hawke tried again. "We are just friends."

"Lie," Fenris sighed as if he would rather be doing anything other than debating Hawke's personal life.

"Best friends," she corrected.

"I can't see her cheeks, but from the flush on her neck, I'd guess she's still lying," Anders chuckled.

Hawke knew her face was flaming as she quickened her pace. "Stop tormenting me and keep a lookout. There's bound to be darkspawn around here somewhere."

"Or they are all still on the surface?" Anders suggested even though he didn't sound confident. "A Blight just ended, after all. Perhaps they are still roaming the countryside."

They all knew the excuse was weak, but no one had a better explanation.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Thethras**

On the fourth day, the group found the bodies.

Scores and scores of darkspawn littered a central chamber not far from where the groups were supposed to meet. The men clumped together, guns drawn. They slowly pressed forward, circling, waiting for the limp forms to move.

But they didn't move. The creatures were all dead, black blood congealed and dried on the stone, eyes glassy. "Maybe Hawke and the others are playing a trick on us," Varric began, hoping the flippancy in his voice would calm the others. "Their path was shorter. Maybe they decided to fuck with us."

"It wasn't Marian; she wouldn't do something like this. Or if she did, she would stick around to watch us lose our shit." Carver kicked one of the bodies and watched it flop listlessly to its back. "This had to have happened recently. They aren't even stiff yet."

"Are you sure these things die like humans?" Beil asked, softly, gun still out and trained on the ground. "The blood suggests four hours at least. Stiffness sets in on humans within that time."

"Spent a lot of time around dead bodies?" Carver's voice was clipped, his jaw set in an annoyed clench.

"When you're for hire, you spend your time around a lot of awful shit," was Beil's reply. "Like a chamber full of dead blighted creatures."

"Are you trying to tell me we're not paying you enough?" Varric tried to joke. He didn't want things coming to blows so soon, not when he was just as likely to be turned on as Carver was.

"No one could pay me enough for this, dwarf," Beil laughed, sliding his gun back into his weapons belt. "Even so, we're here. Might as well see what all this fuss is about."

The group made their way forward slowly and carefully. More strewn bodies littered the next four tunnels, but there was no sign of what had done it. Varric wasn't sure if it was more relief or alarm coursing through his veins. He just hoped that, whatever had done this, their group was the one to find it and not Hawke's. As capable as her crew was, his had numbers.

Not that numbers seemed to do a damned thing against whatever killed the swarms of darkspawn.

Varric swallowed, gripping the hilt of one of his hunting knives. Maker did he hope they found it before Hawke did.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

They were approximately five miles away from their designated rendezvous point with Varric's group when Marian felt her palms begin to prickle with cold sweat. Something felt very wrong with the Deep Roads suddenly, but it had nothing to do with the exposed magma veins or flickering darkness. Those she had grown accustomed to, begun to ignore.

There was something different now. It had started a mile back; a faint prickling along Hawke's arms first, raising the hairs under her thermals and coat. The chill had slid down Hawke's body, caressing her waist and thighs, curling around her ankles.

Her toes felt like icicles in her damp boots, but there was no water here; there was nothing but heat and stale air.

_Marian._

Hawke spun around. "Did you-"

The others were gone. Darkness had engulfed the corridor, making it impossible to see more than a few yards.

Hawke was alone.

She swallowed, turning slowly. There was nowhere to place her back. The walls had thick lava flows between themselves and her walkway, making it impossible to bridge the gap.

_Marian._

She wanted to ask what the thing wanted, where her friends were, what was happening, but she chided herself. She had been below ground for too long. The darkness was playing tricks on her. She was probably having a nightmare. It wasn't real.

A sudden sound filled the passage - a soft, gentle scraping that slowly grew closer. Hawke's head began to swim with the breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her hand slid to her belt, fingers lingering on the butt of her pistol. "Isabela?" she tried uselessly. It wasn't Isabela. Isabela couldn't have gotten in front of her. Isabela didn't sound like she was dragging a metric fuckton of weight behind her.

A soft chuckle filtered from the darkness ahead. It wasn't Isabela, but it was undoubtedly feminine. "She won't bother us now, darling. We have as much time as we need."

"Who are you?" Hawke finally asked, voice shaking.

When the figure emerged, Hawke was suddenly very sure that she imagined it. The woman was gorgeous, nude, and she was dragging something thick and heavy behind her. As she drew closer, Hawke took in the smooth, supple violet skin and the black eyes and knew exactly what was happening.

"No," Hawke said hotly, pulling the gun from her belt and training it on the demon.

The creature chuckled sweetly, tilting her head to the side. The slender bands of gold strung across her face glinted as she did. "I wouldn't cast me aside so soon, Marian. You should hear what I have done for you without hope of reward. It is a rare gift, but one I give willingly."

Hawke's eyes narrowed. "What?" she finally spat out, not lowering the gun.

"There was an ambush," she began softly, slowly stepping forward. The thing behind her came into view, and Hawke gagged at the sudden smell of rot. A long pallet of darkspawn bodies trailed behind the demon, limbs scraping across the stone and leaving long streaks of dark blood and flesh. "Mindless darkspawn in the right place at the right time. They vastly outnumbered your brother and his men, but I took care of things before the worst came to pass."

"And?" Hawke snapped. "We've fought darkspawn; my brother stood his ground against an ogre. I only see small, weak stragglers on your cart. Try again."

"Perhaps your brother could have withstood," she agreed, slowly sliding closer, feet hovering above the stone. "But could your lover?"

Hawke almost lowered her gun. She could suddenly smell the demon above the rotting bodies. It was familiar and spicy, dark and slightly sweet. Varric's aftershave. "No," Hawke repeated. "Stay back."

The demon sighed, dropping the helm of the pallet and crossing her arms under her ample bosom. "Your little firearm will do nothing to me, darling. I am older than you can fathom. What kind of demon would I be if you could banish me with a bullet?" She unfurled her arms and slithered closer, suddenly at Hawke's shoulder, whispering in her ear, "Would you like to hear my price for safe passage through these corridors?"

Hawke whirled, firing blindly. The demon had vanished and, for a moment, Hawke thought she could see clearly down the corridor and toward the chamber she was seeking. She thought she might have heard Anders' voice, tinged with panic, calling her name. But the shadows swirled up around her again, and the demon was before her, face twisting into a vicious snarl. "Enough, mortal. Your fumbling embarrasses me. My price for safe passage, for you and your companions, is one night."

"One night?" Hawke repeated, forgetting the very thing Malcolm had instilled in all of his children. _Never barter with demons. Never give in to their tricks or their honeyed promises. The price is always too steep. Your wording must be perfect, and it never is when making a deal with those creatures._

The demon's face was gentle again; sensual and becoming. One of her long, violet fingers stretched out to move a lock of Hawke's hair from her face. "Such lovely bone structure. It would be a pleasure to wear it for a night. A night when you reunite with your lover."

"I don't have-"

The demon's finger fell to Hawke's lips, the talon-like nail pressing in hard enough to cut. "I do not need cheek twitches and flushes to tell me you lie, darling. You can call him whatever you wish, but the heat between you is..." she let out a lusty sigh, "absolute perfection. And your first coupling will be exquisite."

Remembering herself finally, Hawke swatted the demon's hand away. The nail scratched across her lip, and Hawke hissed softly, knowing she was bleeding from the scratch. "No deal."

"No?" the demon chuckled. "If you turn me down, darling, you will be hunted - by the darkspawn, by myself, by my brothers and sisters and children. And something darker than all of us, sleeping deep in the thaig. Do you truly think one night of passion is more important than his life? Your brother's life? _Your_ life? He will never know; you need never tell him. I will make him your puppet, or I will take your body and make him mine for as long as I want."

Hawke swallowed and stared into the black pools that were her eyes. "Fuck off. My answer is no."

The demon let out an awful noise from deep in her throat, something between a shriek and sob. "So be it, you despicable child," she seethed. "Do not forget I offered you salvation."

The darkness was gone, the demon was gone, and Hawke was crouched on the stone walkway, gun between her knees and hands in her hair, clutching her head. Her skull felt as if it had expanded, so close to exploding.

"I found her! Hawke!"

Hawke felt arms around her, but she could barely hear Fenris' gravelly voice, and it demanded, "What happened? Where did you go? One moment you were there and the next-"

"Hawke!"

More hands, more voices. Everything was so loud and, above it all, Hawke heard the blood rushing through her ears and something whispering her name.

_Marian... I will see you soon._

She let out a wordless cry before slumping back into the forest of hands around her, trying to blink back the shadows swarming over her vision. Everything went dark and, blessedly, the pain faded as Hawke gave in to unconsciousness.


	6. Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the two crews are reunited and all hell tries to break loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Notes/Warnings: Brief rapey situations.**
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter's song inspiration is ["Heavy in Your Arms," by Florance + the Machine.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2tPhyCaftLRxJ2H1IdhDVv). Please enjoy!

* * *

  

**Varric Tethras**

The crew had been hearing what sounded like explosions coming from behind them for the entire day. The noises had faded the further they descended through the angular corridors of the Deep Roads, but that didn't stop the laborers from leaving their hands on their weapons as they walked.

They weren't far from the rendezvous point, and Varric let out a soft sigh of relief. The crew had been fortunate the entire mission, and Varric was excited to meet up with Hawke's crew. _With Hawke,_ he allowed himself to admit internally.

They passed through the final series of corridors that opened up in a dark cavern. The red glow was gone, giving way to a soft blue ambiance. It almost felt like home, Varric realized. The blue light from his TV sensor would fill his room with the same color. But here in the deep, it was the lyrium veins stretching across the walls and ceiling that offered the luminosity.

"Where are they?" Carver asked, his hard voice tinged with something. Panic. "Marian!" he shouted with no care for decorum or his own life.

Varric smacked his arm, making him growl. "Shut up, you idiot. They're obviously not here yet and who knows what else is hiding in the shadows. Keep it down."

Carver swallowed back his biting retort and turned his attention to the laborers. "Two men to a group. We fan out and secure the surrounding space as best as we can. Hopefully, our mage will be here shortly to put up some wards. Get moving." Carver turned his glare to Varric. "Why don't you get some fires going since you're so concerned about danger?"

Varric held up his hands in a surrendering motion. "You need to relax, Junior. Your sister is fine. Her crew is fine. They're just joyriding through the tunnels." Varric pulled his gun and nodded to Carver. "I'm with you. Let's make sure we're all alone down here."

The two moved through the cave without another word, both hoping Varric's blase words would prove to be accurate.

 

* * *

 

The cavern was secured quickly. Two men were stationed at the two entrances to their temporary base until Anders could arrive to fortify their space with wards. Someone had gotten five fires roaring throughout the room, and then workers' sleeping pallets had been set out. Someone was cooking what smelled like sweetened gruel for their dinner.

Varric had taken to pacing near the tunnel that Hawke should be arriving through - should have already come through, he thought anxiously. He didn't want to admit that he was scared shitless for the group. Had they encountered the horror that had taken out so many darkspawn? Had they....

The men were in the process of rotating shifts three hours later, Varric sitting on a sharp rock near the tunnel entrance, when shuffling noises scraped through the passage. The two men who were stationed by the hall put their hands on their guns but did not draw them. Luckily, too, because Isabela and Anders burst through shortly after, carrying an unconscious Marian Hawke between them.

"They're here!" one of the men shouted, moving to take Hawke's legs from Isabela, letting the woman collapse exhaustedly to the stone. Fenris came through the passage next, splattered in dark goo and brandishing his knives in front of him. The arm of his thermals was sporting a fiery scorch mark in the shape of a hand.

"What happened?" Carver demanded as he bounded over, pushing Anders aside to take Hawke's arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Varric ran ahead to the closest fire and laid out his pallet. "Over here, get her down. Anders, can you-"

"She's fine," Anders said weakly, stumbling to sit by the fire. His eyes were wide, haunted, and he was shaking. "I mean... she should be fine. She'd been passed out for fifteen hours, at least, but we can't... we can't snap her out of it. Her vitals are going haywire, but she shouldn't be unconscious," he finished weakly, waving his hand toward her as Carver and the laborer lowered her to the ground.

"What happened?" Carver demanded again, dropping himself beside his sister, a hand resting on her forehead. "She's cold."

"We've been moving for the past fifteen hours; we didn't have time to get a fire going or get food, we just..." Isabela puffed, lowering herself in front of the flames, as well. She rubbed her hands over her arms in spite of two layers of clothing.

"Demons," Fenris finally said, slipping his hunting knives into his belt and joining the others. "We've been hunted since Hawke fell unconscious."

"So many demons," Isabela confirmed with a moan. "We got turned around without Hawke leading us. We should have broken through here yesterday evening; we should have...."

Anders pushed himself up, stumbling slightly. "I need to place wards," he whispered. "We are not safe down here, and bullets do nothing to these demons."

"What I wouldn't give for a weapon with reach," Fenris grumbled.

"You're too weak-" Varric tried arguing to Anders.

"I'm the only mage you have here," Anders argued gently. "Don't worry about me. I have more power than you realize." And then he was off, boots scraping across the stone as he lurched toward the closest tunnel, the one from which they had emerged.

Varric glanced at Carver. "We need to get her changed or at least out of these clothes."

Carver narrowed his eyes at Varric but nodded, reaching toward Hawke's feet to tug her boots off. "These are soaking wet," Carver grumbled, turning her boots upside down, drizzles of water falling out. "Maker, Marian, you're a fucking idiot."

Carver made quick work of Hawke's socks and jeans while Varric tugged off her shirt. Hawke lolled like a doll between them, moving so much like the darkspawn Beil had kicked yesterday. Varric shuddered and tried not to think about it, placing a hand on her thermal top. "It's dry, should we just leave these on?"

Carver checked her leggings and nodded. "We need a blanket."

Varric rifled through her pack which Isabela had tossed down for them. He found her blanket, covering her with it before unfurling her sleeping bag out beside her. He would take hers for the night; he wasn't about to leave her alone for a moment.

Carver let out a sigh, running a hand over Hawke's face, tilting it aside to look at her neck. "No sign of the Blight."

"There's that, at least," Varric mumbled. He turned his attention back to Fenris. "What happened? From the start?"

Fenris shook his head, staring into the flickering flames. "Everything was fine for the first days. Quiet. We didn't see a sign of darkspawn or anything. And then we stopped to take a break, get some food. I don't know how, but she wandered off. Just... got up and slipped past. At first, we expected her to be off securing the perimeter or slipping away for some privacy while pissing or something. But then the time stretched on - an hour, maybe. I don't know; I don't know how to tell time down here. I'm not used to this," he waved his hand absently around them. "We tried to find her, but we kept getting turned around. There was so much darkness. It was thick, like a living thing. We kept calling for her, but there was nothing."

"And then there was," Isabela broke in, still shuddering in spite of the fire. "Sobbing. Fenris found her, called to us, and.... She was all slumped over, wailing. We kept asking her what happened, but she wouldn't talk."

"She couldn't talk," Fenris corrected, shaking his head, jaw set in anger. "She passed out, and that was when the screeching started up behind us. Anders managed to find the map and told us where we needed to go, but the demons found us soon after. Bullets do nothing. The knives make us get in close, and close is not a good thing with these fucking things," he added, voice acidic, showing them the singed area that had cut through his thick shirt and thermals. The skin beneath was an angry red, bubbles of puss showing through the gore. "It never stopped for long. They know where we are and they have no intention of letting us get far."

"I'm so tired," Isabela wheezed.

"Lay down," Varric bade her, slipping her pack off of her back and rifling through it. He laid her pallet out next to his and eased her onto it, covering her. "Food?"

"Not yet," she mumbled, eyes closing immediately. "Sleep now, food later."

Fenris, too, unrolled his sleeping items beside Isabela. "Tell the others about the guns," he yawned, unable to bite it back. "And to collect large weapons if they find them."

Carver nodded and glanced at Varric. "I'm going to tell the others the situation and help keep watch. Don't let anything happen to her."

Varric nodded and locked eyes with Carver. Carver's expression was dark and, Varric realized quite suddenly, he must have suspected something between his sister and their financier. Carver didn't seem to like it, but he wasn't about to upset someone who was willing to protect his sister.

Carver strode off, hand again on his hunting knife as he walked. The cave was thankfully silent other than soft words shared between the laborers. No wailing. No demons. Varric pulled his borrowed pallet closer to Hawke, lowering himself to her side. He reached out to gently stroke hair from her face, watching as her lips moved in her sleep, words that he couldn't understand.

 

* * *

 

Varric hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until a finger on his lips woke him. His eyes shot open, and he found Hawke watching him, eyes heavy-lidded but open. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he chuckled, scooting closer and pressing his forehead to hers. "You gave us quite the scare, kid."

"Sorry," she purred, not sounding sorry at all. Hawke kissed his nose before her lips slid to his, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Varric moaned softly, pulling away only long enough to take in their surroundings. There was no movement in the camp, and no sound other than soft words shared between men on watch. Carver had placed his pallet a few down from Hawke, and he was snoring fitfully.

Hawke tugged Varric back down forcefully, and he nearly yelped at the sudden motion. Her lips were on his again, hands shoving him down onto the pallet. She slid the blanket off of him and straddled his waist, her hands gliding down his thermals as she leaned down, nipping his bottom lip and worming her tongue into his mouth.

They hadn't kissed before, Varric realized numbly as his hands gripped her hips. They hadn't even spoken about taking things further. Hawke had wanted to go slow. Hawke had wanted to take her time.

Varric shoved at her gently but hard enough to get her mouth away from his. "What is going on, Hawke?" he asked softly.

Her eyes were dark pools of ink as she smirked at him. "What's wrong, Tethras? Isn't this what you want?" Hawke's hips had begun to circle above him, and he let out a choked groan, horrified at the blackness in her eyes, the darkening of the fine veins around her eyes.

"Anders!" he shouted, making the thing on top of him hiss and screech.

There was a flurry of movement. Carver was up, knife drawn, and Anders was struggling to get out from under his blanket. Varric had managed to shove Hawke, or whatever was wearing Hawke's skin, off of him and down onto the stone floor between their pallets. She only laughed, tossing him off of her effortlessly.

Carver descended on Hawke's left arm, and Isabela and Fenris covered her right arm. A few of the closest hirelings hesitantly came forward, and Anders snapped, "Pin her legs!" before settling himself beside her head.

"What did you do to her?" Carver shouted at Varric who was slowly picking himself off of the stone, rubbing a hand over his throbbing shoulder. With a sickening lurch, Varric realized it dislocated in the fall. He kept quiet about it, though, coming to stand over the group. Hawke was busy struggling, hissing, and cackling.

"Hold her," Anders ordered, voice crackling with something that sounded nothing like him. His eyes flickered blue, and a soft haze seemed to overtake him as he placed a hand on Hawke's forehead.

Hawke laughed, the sound dark and melodic. "Oh, I know you. Your kind is always the most fun to corrupt."

"Silence, demon," Anders ordered, voice deep and eternal. His fingers dug into her flesh, and she hissed, dark eyes fading for a moment.

Hawke's cool eyes flickered with recognition, sliding to meet Varric's. She smiled softly before her brow wrinkled and the darkness flooded back. "You cannot contain me." Its voice slithered out, so similar to Hawke's but twisted. "She is too weak. This body will be mine."

Anders' nails were biting into Hawke's forehead, drawing small rivulets of blood. Words were spilling from his mouth, words that all ran together and made no sense. His fingers were echoing with the same blue glow that his body was, intensifying as it flooded into Hawke. "I need to pull the demon out," Anders shouted above the sound of Hawke's high-pitched cries.

"No!" Carver exclaimed, turning terrified eyes to Anders. "You can't - you can't separate it from her! She'll die!"

Anders' eyes narrowed, crackling blue. "She did not make a deal with this one; it is merely an interloper. Keep hold of her - break her limbs if you must. Keep her down!" he repeated before opening his hand and shoving his palm against Hawke's forehead.

The blue light became sharp and intense, bathing the group in heat. Varric was shivering in spite of it, his body shaking as he watched Hawke, what used to be Hawke, thrash, her body trying to arch up off of the stone, to break free. He heard something snap, a bone he guessed, but that barely seemed to phase the thing as it writhed.

It went on for an hour. Anders' brow, which had begun to bead with sweat after about ten minutes, was drenched and dripping down onto Hawke's face. The thing inside of her was still laughing, roaring with amusement while it taunted them. "You are not strong enough for me, Justice!" it seethed. "Carver, look at how your lover treats me," it continued, gnashing Hawke's teeth at her brother. "Look how he hurts me. He hurts me more than he ever hurt you, little brother. End our suffering. End him."

"Shut up, demon," Carver muttered, tightening his hold on her arm and making her howl.

"Isabela," it cooed softly, its thrashing stilling to an obscene circling of her hips. "Iiisabelaaaa," it dragged the name out, making Isabela shudder. "Darling, save your hawkling. I will make it up to you as only a truly depraved woman can."

Isabela's eyelids fluttered and, sensing her weakness, Fenris slapped her across the face as he pressed his knee harder into the bend of Hawke's elbow. "Snap out of it," he growled. "This isn't Hawke."

"Fenris," it began, but Fenris reached out and slapped its cheek, too.

"Enough out of you," he snapped. "None of us will give in, demon."

The thing howled, the sound of Hawke's voice strengthening, the demon seeming to weaken. "Varric," it wheezed, but it wasn't the demon's voice anymore; it was Hawke's. "Varric, they're hurting me," she whimpered.

Varric swallowed, watching the darkness swirling in her eyes. "No," he whispered.

"Varric," she sobbed. "Varric, I know you don't want them to hurt me. Anders is going to kill me if he keeps-"

"Let her go," Varric murmured, knowing the demon was playing him but unable to control himself. He tried to reach out to her with his good arm, but one of the laborers at her knees grabbed it, wrenching it behind his back.

"She's not your lady love right now, boss," the voice interrupted. Beil.

"Look at her," Varric tried to appeal to Anders, but the mage was too entranced in his work, the blue surrounding his hand and Hawke's head thickening. "Anders, you're going to kill her!"

Hawke shrieked, body arching off of the stone. The darkness in her eyes disappeared in an instant, her eyelids fluttering weakly as she slumped to the ground, her body like a ragdoll. Her head lolled on Anders' lap, slackened, and Varric let out a choked noise he didn't recognize.

"She's breathing," Carver murmured, moving a hand to his sister's neck. "The pulse is strong. She's... she's fine."

"We cannot take any risks," Anders murmured, weakly leaning back on his heels. "We need two people with her at all times. She's alive, but she was somehow possessed in the time we lost her."

"We need to go back," Varric said. "This isn't worth it. Nothing down here is worth this."

Carver sighed, running a hand through his hair and he leaned back from Hawke. "Either way, we are stuck down here for another week no matter what. If we go back, we are in just as much danger."

"We should see what Hawke wants when she wakes up," Fenris interrupted. "This demon, _these demons_ , seem to have taken an interest in her for some reason. It should be up to her."

"If she wants to press on, it's gonna be without us," Beil spoke up, shaking his head. "Darkspawn can be killed with a bullet between the eyes. These things can't. These things can get inside of us and destroy our ranks in an instant. I can't... I can't put my men at risk like this. You can keep your gold," he added to Varric, shaking his head and getting to his feet. "We are heading back right now, with or without you."

"Hawke's too weak," Anders sighed. "As am I. We need until the morning at the least."

"We are going to make breakfast and break camp," Beil said firmly. "You have about two hours to make up your mind. I hope for your sakes that you make the right choice."

Beil left the group to tell his men, who were all awake after the hour of screeching, what was happening. They all seemed grateful to be breaking down the camp, but Anders was wavering, his eyelids drooping.

"I think I broke Hawke's elbow," Fenris spoke up, grimacing at the limp arm hanging at an odd angle.

"Varric's favoring his shoulder, too," Isabela spoke up. She sounded awkward; she was no doubt embarrassed about her weakness to the demon's temptations. Not that hers was any worse than Varric's.

"Anders needs sleep," Varric said quickly. "Tend to Hawke; I can wait until you rest. We have tons of tonics-"

Anders shook his head. "It'll mend wrong. Come here."

Varric begrudgingly went to Anders and let him work his magic. His shoulder was knitted together and functional again within a few minutes, though it was quite stiff. While Anders moved on to Hawke's elbow, Varric drank an elfroot potion, his shoulder beginning to tingle as the stuff wormed through his body, easing all of his bruises and scrapes.

Anders, finally done with his duties, was led to Carver's pallet. He was asleep in an instant, Carver covering him with his blanket and sighing. The younger Hawke turned his eyes onto Varric, frowning. "So. You two."

Varric glanced down at Hawke's serene face. "Yeah."

Carver shook his head, looking away. "How long?"

"We're not even... we're not really anything yet."

Carver nodded, absently running a hand through Anders' hair. He seemed to catch himself, pulling away from the sleeping mage. "Keep an eye on her. I'm going back to sleep."

Varric nodded. He sat beside Hawke, a hand smoothing over the crescent cuts on her forehead, wiping off the trickles of blood. Isabela crawled onto Varric's pallet, curling into his blanket, her body pressing against Hawke's. She was silent for so long that Varric thought she might have fallen asleep. But then she whispered, "I am such an idiot."

Varric shifted slightly, his other hand smoothing across Isabela's tangled mane. "You're alright, Rivani. Not the first to be seduced by a demon, of that I can assure you. Andraste's ass, I wanted to give in, too."

Isabela curled closer, her face nuzzling against Hawke's shoulder and giving Varric more access to pet her hair. "I know. I just never thought... well. I suppose we all think we're stronger than we are."

"I suppose so," Varric conceded, fingers smoothing out her rough knots. "Get some sleep."

"No," she sighed. "I want to keep watch. The least I can do. I just... I just want to lie here for a bit."

"Take as long as you need," Varric murmured kindly, watching as Hawke's eyes moved under her lids.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke awoke to a rumbling at the base of her skull and the taste of ash on her tongue. She blinked blearily at the ceiling, confused as to how the Deep Roads had given way to a cavern inlaid with bright blue veins of pulsing lyrium. She tried to sit up but groaned, the strange ache at the base of her neck sharpening.

"Marian."

Hawke blinked, meeting the concerned face of her brother. She furrowed her brow, staring at him for a moment. "When did you get here?"

He sighed and turned his attention over his shoulder. "She's up. Anders, do you have a potion handy? Fenris, bring some of that porridge." He turned his gaze back to her, and his frown was much more familiar than his previously worried expression. "You're a dumbass."

"What did I do?" she whined. She wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve both a headache and her mean-spirited brother. She tried to sit up again, this time slowly, and Carver helped her.

"You got possessed by a desire demon, that's what," he grumbled. "And, in doing so, tried to rape Varric, seduce Isabela, and lost us all of our laborers."

Hawke chuckled, sure it was a joke, but Carver's dark expression made the laugh die on her lips. She narrowed her eyes at him. "This isn't funny, Carver. I would never-" But then it came back to her. The woman, _the demon,_ in the tunnels. Hawke was separated from the others. There was darkness everywhere. And then she had been so cold. So very cold. "Oh, Maker," she whispered, eyes widening. "Varric, Isabela - is everyone okay?"

Carver nodded, expression darkening. "You dislocated Varric's shoulder, but Fenris broke your elbow, so I guess it all evened out."

Anders arrived then, looking tired. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than they had been previously, which was quite alarming. He looked sunken, skeletal. "Here," he murmured, uncorking a small vial and tilting Hawke's chin up. "This will help any lingering pain in your elbow."

Hawke swallowed dutifully and winced at the sharp, earthy taste. She nodded her thanks to Anders and Fenris brought a bowl over to her, offering it and a spoon. "It's not very good, but it will warm you up," Fenris murmured, looking awkward.

Hawke took it gratefully, trying not to focus on how everyone was watching her, taking in every motion as if she might lash out. She ate in silence before handing the bowl back to Fenris. "Where's Varric? And Isabela," she added hastily.

"Keeping watch," Carver sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We need to figure out what our course of action is, Marian. You're weak and sensitive to possession according to Anders. He's exhausted and might not be able to fight you off if you go berserk again. We can keep going and possibly die down here. Or we can go back."

"And lose all of the money we worked so hard to raise?" Hawke said, eyes widening. "Carver, we need that money. Bethany's safety depends on this."

"The laborers didn't take their money; they gave it up when they left," Carver murmured. "It won't be what we put in, but we'll get some back. Varric isn't even going to take a cut of it."

"How much?" Hawke pressed.

Carver set his jaw. "Twenty sovereigns."

Hawke nearly choked. "And after the piece to Anders' clinic? And the pay to Fenris and Isabela?"

"We don't need the money," Fenris interrupted.

"And I would rather you get Bethany out of Kirkwall," Anders added. "Twenty sovereigns is more than enough for that."

Hawke was quiet for a long time before she shook her head vehemently. "No. If you all want to go, that's fine. I'm going to find whatever the fuck is so important down here that it requires demons to protect it."

Anders let out a suffering sigh, and Fenris rolled his eyes. "We're not going to abandon you," Fenris grumbled, "no matter how ridiculous your plan."

"If you do insist on continuing this," Anders began, wincing at what he was about to say, "then we need to ensure you can't attack any of us again."

Hawke nodded. It seemed like a fair request. "What do I need to do?"

Carver held up a length of climbing rope. "Give me your hands."

Hawke groaned. "You're tying me up?"

"Just your hands during the day," Carver confirmed, not looking pleased about it. "Your hands and feet at night."

Hawke's eyelids fluttered, and she counted to ten before sighing. She put her hands out, wrists together, and muttered, "Let's get this over with, then."

 


	7. Dark Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke faces a dragon, terrifies the others, and the crew faces the evil that feeds the demons in the thaig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Notes:** The last Deep Roads chapter! Yay! This chapter will be followed by a few smutty and fluffy bits before the next disaster.
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song goes to ["Dark Side," by Bishop Briggs](https://open.spotify.com/track/6FFrva3VXMwabDvuHkX4ZU). Please enjoy!

**Marian Hawke**

The nights were the worst. Hawke would lie down on her sleeping bag and grit her teeth and bite her tongue as one of her companions - usually Carver, sometimes Isabela - would remove her boots and tie her ankles together. Isabela was the worst; or best, considering. Her knots were tight and left no wiggle room for Hawke's feet. Carver's were looser, but not loose enough for Hawke to get free.

She knew that it was necessary. Hawke still wasn't sure what exactly had transpired that night, as Varric was the only one who had been awake for the whole ordeal and he refused to comment on it. He had looked pained whenever she asked and would glance away almost as if he was embarrassed.

 _You almost raped Varric,_ Carver had said. The words had haunted her since he had uttered them. She remembered the demon's ultimatum for their safe passage - a night with Varric while wearing Hawke's skin, and the threat of taking it herself if Hawke didn't agree.

Even though Varric had been avoiding her for the most part, he slept by her side each night. His sleeping bag would always be right there, right next to hers. Hawke would sometimes awake to find him staring at her, but when she would offer him a smile, he would grimace and look away.

Isabela had taken to sleeping on her other side, with one arm slung around Hawke's waist under their combined blankets. The woman somehow managed to smell like the sea so far underground, and the salty, balmy scent would calm Hawke into sleep.

"Hawke," she heard a soft whisper in her ear on the tenth night underground. Hawke's eyes opened, blinking rapidly, instantly wary that it was the demon back for a second go. But it was only Isabela watching her, squinting her chocolatey eyes so close to Hawke's. "You were moaning in your sleep. You still you?"

Hawke snorted. "If I wasn't, I doubt I would admit it."

Isabela chuckled softly, leaning in closer. Their noses bumped and Isabela's gaze swept over Hawke, making her blush under the scrutiny. "Seems to be you, Hawkling. Your eyes aren't black, so that's a start. How are you feeling?"

Hawke would have shrugged if her bindings gave her more room for the motion. "Alright, I guess, other than the terrible chafing."

"Better than chafing in more sensitive spots, I can assure you," Isabela joked, eyelashes fluttering. "I wish I could untie you, but I'm afraid the others would be quite cross with me."

"Not to mention you'd be in danger of demon-Hawke raping you," Hawke added.

"I could think of worse things," Isabela murmured, her lips turning up at the corners. She sobered when Hawke didn't smile and guessed, "You're worried about Varric?"

"I can't imagine me forcing myself on him was pleasant."

"It was until I realized it wasn't you," Varric murmured from her other side, startling her and Isabela.

"Varric, you pervert," Isabela giggled. "Spying on me while I try to seduce your woman?"

"She's her own woman," Varric returned before Hawke could protest the label herself.

"Well, if that's the case," Isabela chuckled again, wiggling down a bit to nestle her face into Hawke's clavicle. Hawke's bound hands were close to the warmth between Isabela's legs, but Hawke was surprised to find it a pleasant turn of events. She'd missed the contact. Other than the nights she'd spent with Varric, only one of which even included snuggling, she hadn't been close with anyone in a long time. Years and years, in fact.

Hawke moved a little closer, their bodies flush together, and Isabela sighed, warm breath sliding across Hawke's neck. She could feel Isabela's heart speeding up, and Hawke pressed her face into the woman's wild hair, breathing in the sea.

Varric, in spite of his flippancy, seemed to be feeling left out. He curled himself around Hawke's back, his arm sliding in beside Isabela's around Hawke's waist. Hawke fell into a deep sleep, warmed and comforted by the pair.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Carver had been on the night watch for more hours than Varric was becoming comfortable with. The man was strong and young and capable, of course, but that didn't make Varric feel any better about it.

"You need to let the rest of us take some of the burden off," Varric tried telling him the next day as they passed through the thaig, feet scraping across the ground, uneven from so many earthquakes over the centuries it had stood empty.  
  
"No offense meant, dwarf, but I trust myself more than I would ever trust the rest of you," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes blearily and proving Varric's point. "If anyone is going to be protecting us, it should be me."

"I understand you don't trust me yet. Or Isabela or Fenris," Varric tried, "but what about Blondie? Your family obviously has some history with him. Why not trust him?"

Carver cleared his throat and seemed as if he was checking the urge to turn and look at the mage. "He's exhausted. We need him in perfect condition if Marian gets taken over again."

Varric sighed. "So be it, Junior. But you can't keep on like this. If the demons come back, we need to be prepared. All of us. And you can't be on your toes if you're sleep deprived."

Carver set his jaw and refused to answer.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

It took three more days of leisurely descending through the thaig for the accidental ambush to happen. Carver was the first to notice the noise. He signaled the others to stop, and Fenris seemed to bristle. "What is that?" he hissed.

Carver shook his head silently, drawing his gun and a knife, slowly stepping forward. Everything seemed fine until Varric shouted, "Carver, wait!"

Varric had seen something the others had not. A pressure pad, almost the same color as the mildewing stones, right before it depressed under Carver's boot. Fire spat from the walls, and Carver fell back, shouting and flicking flames from his jeans frantically.

The shouting alerted nearby darkspawn who wasted no time in spewing from around the corner, charging through the spitting inferno without a thought to their own safety. Hawke stumbled back, almost toppling over without the balance aid of her arms. The darkspawn they had encountered in Ferelden were single-minded, yes, but they were also tactical. They would find alternate routes around a fire and fan out, attacking from all sides. These seemed indifferent, stumbling into the middle of knives and bullets with no mind to do otherwise.

The group of blighted creatures fell quickly without a single one reaching Hawke at the back of the living shield around her. She had assumed that keeping her tied up while under attack would lead to her death. It seemed she hadn't needed to worry.

"You okay?" Carver asked her as he approached. Fenris and Isabela were going through the darkspawn bodies, producing ancient swords and pikes from them, looking over the weapons.

"I'm fine," Hawke finally answered, almost forgetting Carver had even asked the question. Her gaze swept over to where Anders was leaning against the wall, face pinched. A headache, Hawke knew; he'd had it for the past three days. Even so, Anders refused to use his magic or one of his elfroot potions. _They're for emergencies, not mild discomfort,_ he had said incredulously.

Varric had gone to Anders' side, offering the man a piece of jerky. Anders took it gratefully, and the two shared halting, soft words that Hawke couldn't make out.

"Marian," Carver snapped, and Hawke looked back guiltily.

"Sorry, what?"

Carver regarded her with narrowed eyes. "You look... off. You sure you're good?"

Hawke opened her mouth to give him the affirmative when something dark fluttered at the base of her tongue, choking her words. The feeling was gone as soon as it had happened and Hawke shook herself. "I don't know," she finally answered, shoving her hands out toward him. "Tighten this up."

Carver called Isabela over, and the woman sighed, undoing the ties quickly and reaffixing them, holding Hawke's hands in hers for a moment longer. "You'll be fine, Hawkling," she murmured, suddenly soft. "We won't let that mean old demon take you again."

"You might not have a say," Hawke mumbled. Isabela frowned, squeezing Hawke's hands in hers.

Isabela pulled away to help Fenris pass out the large weapons to the others. "In case of demons," Fenris explained, taking a massive sword for himself. He tested the weight before nodding. "Let's go."

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

The darkspawn attacks were becoming more frequent the further they passed into the thaig. The creatures were also becoming dumber, seemingly muddled from the loss of their Archdemon. Varric and the others were able to dispatch them quickly with their guns, thankfully, because Varric hated the fact that Hawke was tied up and defenseless.

He would spare glances back at her more often than he wanted to admit. She was growing tired more frequently the longer they were underground. She was also becoming more restless in her sleep, tossing around between him and Isabela. Sometimes Varric would awake to Hawke mumbling soundlessly in her dreams, brow beaded with sweat. Sometimes he would find her staring at him blankly, offering him a vacant half-smile. Not the smile he was used to - not the awkward, adorable one. This one was that of a vacuous doll.

Varric tried to stay away from her during the day. For some reason, it seemed as if she was weaker around him; less able to fight off the darkness that took her without warning. She still had not succumbed after the first night, but there were moments when a shadow would darken her blue eyes for a moment, threatening to spill out.

He couldn't stay away at night, though. He and Isabela had taken to being Hawke's buffers while they slept, their three bodies wrapped up in one another. Or, more accurately, Isabela and Varric's bodies wrapped around Hawke's tied, mostly immobile one.

"Hey!" Anders shouted suddenly from behind them where he walked alongside Fenris. The mage had stooped down to trace something along the stone floor. "What is this?"

Varric retraced his step and peered down at the floor, flashlight illuminating the pattern further. "Old dwarven carvings," he murmured, trying to follow the faded lines. "I'm no expert in the tales, but I think...." Varric glanced over the figures drawn in the middle of the elaborate stone tapestry. "I don't think these are paragons. I think they're supposed to be gods."

"Gods?" Hawke repeated, coming to stand closer to see. She was absently rubbing her wrists together as if trying to scratch an itch she couldn't reach. Or get out of her bindings, Varric realized. She didn't seem to notice she was doing it; Varric wasn't sure if that made it worse or better.

"Look at the subservience in the other figures," he murmured, sweeping his flashlight around the groveling forms around the central figures. "This is... not a traditional carving. Not one I've ever seen, anyway." Varric grappled with his bag for a moment, producing his camera and affixing a lens to it. He took a few pictures, shaking his head. If they ever made it out of the thaig, the photos alone would garner a fortune from museums in Orzammar. "Keep an eye out for these. Even if there isn't any real treasure, this stuff will make us money."

The group couldn't travel very far without more murals popping up on the walls or the floors. Varric's battery was draining quickly, and his memory card was getting close to full by the time he put the camera away. "Let's save the rest for something special," he murmured at Fenris' questioning look. "All these carvings start to look the same after a while." A lie, but one the others accepted easily.

 

* * *

 

On the fifteenth day underground, while the group was breaking camp, they began to hear explosions, somehow in front of them after so long being to their back. "We heard these coming toward the rendezvous point," Carver murmured, brows furrowed as he listened.

"It sounds like demolition charges," Fenris grumbled.

Isabela looked between them all, seemingly aghast. "So... either the demons learned how to use explosives, the darkspawn have gotten a wee-bit smarter, or there are other people down here?"

"That's impossible," Anders said, but he didn't look too convinced at his own words. "Who else even knew about this?"

Varric sighed, looking up at the tall ceiling above them. "Bartrand."

Hawke groaned and got to her feet. She was getting quite good at standing without the use of her arms. "He'll bring the whole thing down on himself. And us if he keeps this shit up."

"Let's go, people," Carver said, shouldering his pack, doubly weighed down with Hawke's gear, as well. "Keep up; we need to start making better time. Who's got Marian?"

"I've got her," Fenris offered, sounding bored. He hooked a hand around Hawke's elbow. Hawke smirked at him, looking as if she was ready to tease him, but Carver took to a jog down the corridor, and they followed at a brisk pace, Hawke's words dying on her lips.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

"Marian! Run!"

"Where?!" she shouted back, her feet thumping across the slick stone of the chamber. The hissing and growling behind her followed, too close for comfort, and Hawke had to check the urge to speed up. She would fall on her face if she did, and if she fell, the dragon and its brethren would be on her in an instant.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the chamber, but all Hawke could focus on was the frantic beating of her heart, the sound of the dragon's hot breath on her, and the scrabbling of tiny claws as the babies gave chase.

"You're doing great, Hawkling!"

"Shut up!" she shouted back, "Take this bitch and her brood down before she realizes she can breathe fire!"

"I don't think they can breathe fire at this stage-" Fenris began, but Hawke interrupted.

"Kill! It!"

The running was wearing her down faster than it should have. Hawke's chest felt as if it was going to explode at any moment, the breath dragging from her lungs searing through her raw throat. The dragonlings made a strange noise that had somehow become louder the less of them there were. It was like a clicking whine, something as unsettling as it was adorable.

"Almost got them, Hawke!" Varric shouted enthusiastically. "Just keep-"

But Hawke's legs gave out beneath her as she descended a flight of steps on the raised dais. She tumbled, her shoulder smacking against the sharp corners of the steps as she fell. When she hit the ground, she laid there, panting, looking up at the dragon descending toward her. Her shoulder hurt so much that she could feel it through her fear and adrenaline.

_Marian... let me out._

Its maw opened, and Hawke admired the rows of glittering teeth, the sharp slant of the powerful jaws.

_Marian, I can save you. I can save you for a single night wearing your skin. My accord still stands._

Hawke closed her eyes. "No deal," she spat.

The thing inside of her snarled and lashed against its prison.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric's heart stuttered as he ran toward her, shouting at the dragon and shooting at its face to try to draw its attention back. Fenris had abandoned his gun and launched himself at the dragon's hindquarters, slashing with the massive darkspawn sword he had pilfered. Isabela was shouting and moving toward Hawke in an attempt to drag her back. Carver had joined Fenris in the close-combat fight, and Anders was trying to cast glyphs around Hawke.

But then Hawke was standing, and Isabela was stumbling backward, shouting, "It's not her!"

Varric didn't realize what she had meant at first until Hawke raised her arms above her head and the rope between her wrists shredded like tissue paper. The dragon, its head swiveling back to Hawke, hissed and struck, too quick for Varric to follow.

Not fast enough, it seemed, because Hawke's hands found the dragon's jaws, gripping the plated maw and slowly forcing them apart.

"Hawke!" Varric yelled.

She glanced his way, her smile broad and predatory. Her eyes were deep pools of darkness, the black veins swimming around her face pulsing. Hawke jerked her hands, and the dragon's jaws were forced apart, the crack of the separating bones echoing through the room as it thrashed weakly and flopped to the ground. Hawke yanked the bottom jaw free, tossing it toward Varric, still smirking.

Varric's heart nearly gave out. Covered in blood, Hawke stalked toward him, her smile impossibly wide. She reached toward him, her fingers like claws.

Varric swallowed and raised his gun again, firing a single shot into her shoulder. She hissed, falling back, the darkness fading for a moment. Hawke's blue eyes met Varric's, and he thought she might have smiled faintly before she fell unconscious.

 

* * *

 

"What do we do?" Isabela asked, running a hand over her face. "We're too far in to go back. Our exit at the end of the thaig is closer than the entrances we came from."

"Tying her up doesn't seem to be effective," Fenris agreed, his frown deepening. "She broke free without hesitation."

"Why hadn't she done it before?" Carver wondered aloud. "If she could break those ties so effortlessly, why not do it sooner?"

"My only guess is that it was because Hawke was about to die," Varric grumbled, stoking the fire with a damp piece of wood that cracked and sizzled in annoyance. "The dragon was close to tearing her face off. The demon didn't seem pleased about that."

"That's fine and all, but how do we secure her now?" Isabela asked softly, glancing over her shoulder toward where Anders was leaning over Hawke's prone form, casting spells. "Power turns me on as much as the next girl, but ripping a dragon's head in half? That's a bit much."

The group fell into silence until Anders rejoined them, wiping sweat from his brow. He took an offered bowl of beans and a hunk of cornbread, tucking into the food weakly. "She needs to be tied," he said between bites.

"Is it even worth it?" Fenris asked.

Anders nodded. "Hawke's in control again. I think... I think it slipped through after Hawke resigned herself to death. I'm not sure. Demons are fickle and hard to understand, but I..." he trailed off, his brow furrowing. "I don't think the demon can take her over unless she's weak. We need to keep her fed, keep her hydrated, and make sure she's rested."

Isabela nodded and grappled through her pack, producing more lengths of rope. "I'll tie the princess up for the night, I guess," she sighed, but there was apprehension on her brow. She left the fire to go toward Hawke's prone figure.

Varric looked down at the flames. "How is her shoulder?"

"Healed," Anders nodded. "No lasting damage."

"You did what you had to," Carver murmured, not meeting Varric's eyes. "Don't feel bad about it."

Isabela finished tying her and called, "Carver, help me move her?"

Carver went to help, and Varric took the moment of distraction to look at Anders. "How are you doing?"

Anders sighed and shrugged. "It's... difficult. I haven't been taxed this thoroughly in years. My link to the Fade helps, but..." he trailed off, looking as if he had given away more than he intended. "I just hope this trip is worth it. If there is nothing to be gained down here, if this was all a waste of time?" he shrugged again. "I don't know, Varric."

"What happens when we take Hawke out of this cave?" Fenris asked, leaning into the conversation. "We can't have her possessed and running amok in Kirkwall. At least here she's contained."

"Are you suggesting we leave her here?" Varric asked, suddenly horrified and angry in one instant. "We're not leaving her."

His voice had risen too much because Carver grunted something angrily. He and Isabela placed Hawke on a sleeping pallet by the fire and Carver snapped, "We're not leaving her."

"No one said we would," Anders tried to calm him, reaching a hand out to him.

Carver slapped it away impatiently. "Anders, you promise me now. You get that thing out of her. Promise me."

Anders gritted his teeth but nodded. "I will do everything in my power, Carver. You know I will. I love Marian like a sister; I would never-"

Carver turned his glare to Fenris. "Don't touch her."

"I am keeping her as far from me as I can," Fenris confirmed, brow furrowing. "Until that beast is gone, I want nothing to do with her."

Isabela, who had been standing quietly beside Hawke, cleared her throat. "I'm settling in. Try to keep the demon talk under wraps in case she wakes up. I'm sure the princess doesn't need a reminder that we're one step short of shooting her." She sent a pointed look at Varric before moving her sleeping bag against Hawke, snuggling into her blanket and against the softly snoring woman.

"You did what had to be done," Carver murmured to Varric. Anders nodded his agreement.

"I would have shot her in the head," Fenris muttered, getting to his feet and moving to the other side of the fire before anyone could hit him. "I'll keep watch. The rest of you need sleep."

Varric almost moved his pallet beside Hawke's, as he did nightly, but the guilt from shooting her made him hesitate. He knew he had done the right thing - he knew he had to make a split-second choice to stop her. Even so, the sight of her jolting back at the bullet's impact would haunt him.

Varric settled himself onto his sleeping bag, missing the warmth of Hawke's body and Isabela's arm against his.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke wasn't sure why the others seemed to be walking on eggshells around her, but it was an odd and overall unpleasant turn of events. She had asked what happened, but no one seemed interested in telling her more than, _That dragon almost killed you when you slipped off the dais, but it's okay. Everything is fine now._

They said it like a parent would right before a murderer barged through the door. It was halting, scared.

They had only trudged through a few chambers and fought off a handful of darkspawn and minor demons when everything shuddered around them, another explosion ripping through the tunnels ahead. "They're getting closer to the chamber," Fenris muttered darkly, bracing himself against the wall as the world around them rumbled.

"They're going to bring the whole damned thing down around us," Varric confirmed, grabbing onto Hawke's hip to keep her from falling. "If that is Bartrand, I am going to tear his face off and feed it to the darkspawn."

"We need to keep moving," Carver grumbled, shaking the loose stone dust from his hair. "If that is competition, we need to get to the end of this Maker forsaken thaig before they do."

Three hours later and only four miles from the chamber, the group entered a room where the stone had given out. It had somehow managed to create a ramp of the former-floor, leading down into the cavern below the thaig. The group loitered around the mouth of it before Isabela whistled. "You see that?" she asked, shining her flashlight further down into the depths. "Right there. See that?"

Something was glittering in the darkness at the end of the ramp. Their flashlights swept around the gloom and Anders' breath stuttered. "That's gold," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's... it's all gold."

Isabela let out a little whoop of glee and ran down the crumbled floor and into the darkness, her flashlight illuminating the coins and chalices, jewelry and dinnerware scattered through the room below. Almost all of it was gold; the rest seemed to be jewel-encrusted platinum.

"How did it all get right here?" Varric breathed, shaking his head.

"The dragon's hoard?" Fenris asked.

"That's a myth, dragons don't hoard treasure," Isabela scoffed.

"And she was too far from this if it was," Carver agreed.

Hawke watched as Carver and Fenris followed Isabela, something dark clenching her heart. "This isn't right," she whispered. She turned her gaze to Varric, brow furrowed and eyes panicked. "This isn't right. Why is it all right here? Right here? How did this open up directly in front of us, directly in front of all of this gold?"

"Guys, come back up!" Anders called, sensing the urgency in Hawke's voice and putting his immediate trust in her. "We need to-"

Another rumbling broke through the room, and the floor beneath them gave out. Hawke fell hard on her still tender shoulder and gasped. Varric landed on her legs, pinning her beneath his bulk, and she let out a sharp shriek. Anders was somewhere in the darkness, grappling at the floor, slipping on the gold. "To me!" he shouted, suddenly surrounded with blue light, illuminating the cavern around them.

Isabela, Fenris, and Caver were with them in an instant, panicked. "What's happening?" Isabela asked.

"Something is down here," Fenris growled.

Varric reached down to help Hawke up, but her eyes were trained into the darkness, watching in horror as a golden glow grew in the dark, slowly becoming larger and closer. The sound of rocks crumbling against rocks became louder, and Hawke whispered, "We need to get out of here. We need to get out of here now."

"Marian Hawke," the thing approaching growled, the voice ancient and vacuous. "I was told to expect you. Would you like to make a deal now?"

The thing, the demon, came into their flashlight beams. It was made entirely of rock and a golden glowing ribcage, its head a globe of light. Its guttural laugh echoed through the small chamber it stooped to fit into, swaying as it approached.

"Retreat," Carver ordered, but the rock demon reached out swiftly, slamming its massive arm into what was left of the the makeshift ramp, dissolving it to dust and rubble.

"You will never leave. Not without a deal."

"Begone!" Anders shouted.

The demon only laughed, the sound shaking the walls around them. "Take as much gold as you wish. Fill your small packs. The exit is close, and I will give you passage. Simply leave me and my children be."

Hawke watched the others as they regarded each other carefully. They had more than enough riches around them to live like kings for the rest of their days. Isabela could spend her days on the beach with lovely men and women, drinking rum. Anders could build a hospital and staff it with the best healers and nurses. Varric could quit the business, leave it all behind, and finally start writing. Fenris could stop squatting in hostels and living off of Varric's generosity.

Bethany could be safe somewhere far from Kirkwall. Their mother could be properly cared for. Carver could go off adventuring and never look back. Hawke could....

Hawke hesitated. What _did_ she want?

"No," Hawke whispered suddenly. "No, we can't. You guys can't be serious - we can't give into this... this _thing."_

"She's right," Anders said, shaking himself from his stupor. "We need to kill it. We need to get out."

"There is no passage through," the demon shouted at them, the roof above them dropping dust and small fragments of stone onto them. "You will never survive without my help."

"You wouldn't offer us safe passage if there weren't a passage to go through," Carver spat angrily. "Fuck off."

It shrieked at them. "You will not leave this place alive!" And then it was gone, replaced with smaller wraiths that looked just like it.

"Hawke, get back," Varric ordered her, scrambling around the floor to find his fallen weapon. "Shore up - protect Hawke!"

Hawke stumbled and slid behind the enclosing wall of bodies, hating herself for being weak, for not being able to help.

_Let me out, Marian._

Hawke closed her eyes, tamping down the heat building around her chest, the darkness attempting to sway her. She'd been so cold before; the sudden fever of the demon inside of her felt good.

_Marian, let me out, darling._

Hawke's eyelids fluttered for a moment before she caught the cold glitter of the butt of a gun in front of her. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, off of where it peeked out from Varric's weapon belt. The warm red glow from the small demons bathed everything in bloody light.

 _Pick up the gun,_ the desire demon whispered. _All I need is an opening, darling. Pick up the gun and place it to your neck. Carefully, dear. Carefully. All we need is a nicked artery. All we need is a little blood._

Hawke's bound hands, trembling, reached out for the gun. Her fingers brushed across the cold, hard casing around the grip. But the din around her quieted suddenly, and she snapped free of the demon's candied voice, blinking back the cloudiness. The rock demons were lying in piles of shale, gutted of their life force.

Varric turned toward her, and their eyes met. His honeyed ones mistook her seeking hands for something other than what they were, and he lowered himself to the ground in front of her, pulling her roughly into his arms. "You're okay, Peaches," he whispered in her ear, kissing her temple. "We're gonna figure this out."

Hawke swallowed, not trusting herself to answer, and buried her face against Varric's neck.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

The group had decided to take their chances and leave half of their supplies there in the rubble. It would be easy to come back for if they needed it, after all. They filled three of their six packs with as many small pieces of gold, jewels, and platinum as they could. The bags were too heavy to carry on their backs, so Fenris and Carver spent hours making a triple-encased sleeping bag sled. The makeshift toboggan was hardly pleasing to look at or listen to as it slid across the ground, but it seemed to work even with the massive packs stuffed into the middle of it. Carver had taken to pulling it while Hawke trailed behind him, watched closely by Varric and Anders. Isabela and Fenris held up the rear, tense and looking out for the slightest sign of trouble.

"The exit is close," Varric spoke up after a few hours of trudging, glancing over the map. "A mile, maybe two. Turn left at the next branch and straight on until sunlight."

They rounded the corner indicated and entered a massive cathedral-type room. The group stopped, and Varric let out a hesitant breath. "Does anyone else feel like this room is twenty degrees colder than that hallway?"

"Does anyone else feel like that massive pile of rocks there might just be our death?" Isabela added.

As if waiting for a cue, the rocks began to form around a golden ribcage of pure energy. It went from gold to red in an instant, and the demon's voice made the chamber shudder. "You will die like the rest of them."

Fenris snarled and launched himself toward the thing, sword making quick work of chipping away at its thick legs. Isabela and Carver joined in on the fray, but Varric hooked Hawke's arm in his and dragged her to a support beam, shoving her behind it. "Stay here," he ordered. "Don't try to help, and don't give into that demon inside of you. Stay. Here."

Hawke was staring over his shoulder in horror, blinking, not hearing him. Varric turned to see what she was looking at and felt bile rising in his throat.  _You will die like the rest of them,_ the demon had intoned.

Dead dwarves littered the walls, their bellies, heads, and limbs pinned to the surface with rock shards. Varric's eyes followed the line of them in horror, slowly recognizing faces. Hirelings. Laborers. Men who Bartrand had used before.

"No," Varric whispered. He turned back to Hawke and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "Did you hear me? Stay here and don't fucking move. Got it?"

Hawke nodded; her glassy eyes were still blue. She was still her. Varric leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, wanting to kiss her - the real her - before it was too late. "Stay," he repeated before leaving her there to join the others.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke stared ahead of her, watching the wall as it teemed with blood slowly trickling across the rock. The bodies were fresh. Some still looked alive, their eyes bright and focused in fixed horror. The dark smears of blood were beginning to congeal on the cold stone, though. Hawke traced the individual lines to the pools and then to the bodies, the limbs akimbo, the faces slack.

Hawke swallowed down the urge to vomit, but she knew she couldn't look away. If she looked away, she would see the others. She would see the demon. She would give in. She would break her promise to stay put.

_Marian._

"No!" she screamed, her voice startling herself. "No," she repeated firmly, fingernails digging into the fleshy part of her palms. The pain focused her mind, the razor-sharp center clearing the fog away.

_He can give you anything you want. Your dwarf can be yours alone. You can control the hearts of everyone you meet, darling. Wouldn't that make things more comfortable? If you let him live, he will let you go. He will give your riches and power beyond your wildest dreams._

Hawke wasn't sure why, but her offerings sounded more hollow than usual. They were raw and desperate.

Hawke's eyes narrowed, and she tossed herself toward the wall, finding an exceptionally sharp shard of rock spearing a dwarf to the wall. "Sorry, guy," she whispered before reaching out, sawing her bindings against the stone, wrenching the shard around in the dead dwarf's belly.

 _Yes,_ the demon breathed in her ear. _Break free. Let me save us all._

Hawke didn't answer, focusing all of her power on the quick motions of sliding the rope across the rock. It began splitting slowly, the fibers unraveling with each saw.

The stone broke through the rope in a rush and Hawke quickly unraveled it from around her wrists, tossing it to the ground. She looked around frantically for a weapon, anything, and found two long, wickedly curved sickles beneath one of the dead dwarves. She grabbed them, testing their reach before running into the center of the room.

"Hawke!" Isabela shouted, suddenly horrified. The demon took her moment of distraction to slash her midsection with his one remaining leg, and she stumbled back, crying out and holding her abdomen.

Hawke tossed herself into the mess of bodies, trying to find some kind of weakness. And then she saw it - the pulsing red thing nestled within its ribs, beating almost like a heart. "Carver!" she shouted. "Boost!"

Carver looked terrified, but he dutifully ducked down, hands in a stirrup. Hawke tore toward him like she had a million times before when reaching for a ledge out of reach. This wasn't a ledge, though. One of her feet landed in his palms, and he tossed her up, grunting as he did, and she slid a sickle neatly between the demon's ribs, piercing the beating thing there.

It wasn't a direct hit, but it brought the beast to its one knee, its shrieks of pain filling the cavernous room. "You will never leave here alive!" it shouted.

Hawke tumbled to her knees, and Carver pulled her back away from the thrashing demon. They watched as Fenris took Hawke's lead, plunging his sword directly into the beating center of the beast.

The light that erupted from it was blinding. Hawke covered her eyes, sure for a moment that they had all died in the blast. But the glow slowly subsided, and Hawke found herself in Carver's arms. Anders ran to Isabela, quickly tending to her torn abdomen. Fenris stumbled from the fallen rocks that were once a demon, shaking his head in a rare show of emotion.

Varric was staring at Hawke, eyes wide. Hawke expected him to be worried, to keep his distance, but he trudged toward her and pulled her out of Carver's grip. Varric's arms circled her shoulders tightly, his quickened breath hot on her neck.

He held her like that, saying nothing but breathing her in until Anders approached. "Hawke, as thankful as we are for your assistance, I need to make sure you're not still-"

"I am," Hawke interrupted, pulling out of Varric's arms. "She's still there, but she's quiet. I think... I think this rock demon, whatever it was, was somehow feeding her. Feeding all of the demons here, giving them power. She begged me to save the rock demon, promised me everything I wanted."

"It makes sense," Anders hummed, lowering himself to the rock. "A co-dependency; the minor demons kept it safe, and it kept them powerful."

Hawke slid onto the rock, lying down, eyes closing. "Think you can take her out?"

"If it is as weak as you say, I should be able to pull it out. It might be messy," he added with a grimace. "Fenris, Varric, Carver - I will need you ready. It might not die from the extraction; you might need to fight it."

"After the thing we just faced," Fenris drawled, leaning on his sword, "I doubt it will be much of a challenge."

"Even so," Anders sighed, wiping his hands on his jeans before placing them on Hawke's forehead. "Be ready. Keep it away from Isabela - she's too weak to fend it off."

 

* * *

 

When Hawke awoke, she felt oddly empty and cold. The demon was gone - she could tell immediately because the black warmth within her had passed and her mind was sharp and clear.

Her hands and ankles, for the first time in a long time, were not bound. She groaned softly, and the heat in front of her stirred. Varric's face was suddenly there, his shaggy blond hair falling in messy strands into his eyes. "Hey," he whispered.

She grinned, and he returned it, for once not grimacing. "Hey. Where are we?"

"Still in the thaig. Fenris scouted ahead and found the exit after we got rid of your pesky desire demon passenger. We'll be out tomorrow within two hours. Carver wants to empty our packs after breakfast and grab more gold. We'll be richer than we ever dreamed."

"That's the best news I've heard in ages," she sighed happily. "I need a vacation before the next expedition."

"A long one," Varric chuckled.

Sobering Hawke asked, "Did you find Bartrand?"

He sighed. "Not among the dead. The coward probably turned tail and ran if he was even here in the first place." He was silent for a time before brushing a lock of hair from her face. "How do you feel?"

Hawke thought about it for a moment. "Normal. But normal feels odd now."

Varric caressed his calloused hand over her jaw, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Glad to have you back, Peaches."

"I'm glad to be back," she returned, leaning in to press her lips against his. Varric was so warm, and his lips so soft, that Hawke wanted to stay there forever, pressed against him. Her hands trailed from his waist to his chest, feeling the tight muscles as they bunched under her touch. Varric moaned gently against her mouth, opening to her seeking tongue.

"As much as I would love to be here for this," Isabela groused against the back of Hawke's neck, "I'm exhausted, and my guts still feel like they might spill out all over your back, Hawkling. Perhaps a raincheck on the heavy petting?"

Hawke snickered quietly, pulling back from Varric's mouth but tucking her face under his chin. "Sorry, Bela."

All she received in response was a sleepy chuckle and Isabela's arm tightening around her waist.


	8. One More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the crew returns to Kirkwall, Bethany plans a new life, Carver is distant, and Hawke's world feels like it's crumbling around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Notes/Warnings: SMUT between Hawke and Isabela. Bianca shows up. Hawke angst.** I promise the Varric/Hawke stuff is coming up! 
> 
> The song inspiration for this chapter is one that has been haunting me (in a good way) for ages - ["One More," by Elliphant, ft. MO.](https://open.spotify.com/track/5nvp7lpex9eNqFZSWiXVxc) Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Hawke and Isabela fell asleep the moment they slid into the backseat of their taxi. Hawke's head lolled onto Isabela's shoulder, one filthy hand on Varric's thigh. She was lovely despite the dirt and grime caking her. Varric took the time to admire her, his heart lighter than he could even imagine. She was alive, the demon was gone, and there were six sacks of riches weighing down the trunk. The Hawkes would have all the money they needed to....

Varric's heart stuttered. _To leave._

The drive along the coast was quick, and they slid into Hightown before Hawke and Isabela could get any deep sleep. Varric felt sorry for shaking them awake, but he would need help with the sleeping bags full of their newfound wealth. "Hey," he murmured to Hawke. "We're here."

Hawke groaned, stirring, before shoving her elbow against Isabela. "Wake up," she moaned, blinking blearily. The women slid out of the car sleepily, looking around the bright marbled buildings of Hightown. "Where are we?" Hawke asked, running a hand through her filthy hair.

"I can't leave this in the office with Bartrand running around," Varric murmured cryptically, paying the cabbie before going to the popped trunk, grabbing one bundle of straps. "I got this one. You two grab the other."

Hawke grabbed the other sleeping bag bundle, grunting, and the pair pulled the second bunch from the trunk. Isabela moaned a little at her still-tender abdomen, but the trio headed to the closest gilded building without much trouble. They acquired many curious looks, but no one bothered them.

The building Varric led them to was an apartment complex with a secure-access entrance and three levels of security doors after that. Hawke wasn't surprised that such a tightly guarded apartment complex existed in Hightown, but it was still a thing to behold. They took an elevator up to the top floor which opened into a small landing with only two doors - one to the right and one to the left. They trudged toward the right door, and the trio set the sleeping bags down at the jamb. Varric wiped his thumb off on his jeans and pressed it to a discreet reader beside the door.

The door clicked open, and Varric led them inside.

They dropped the sleeping bags down against the sophisticated, moleskin-colored wall and Isabela let out a grateful groan. She glanced around them, whistling at the finery. "Andraste's flaming ass. If you have a place like this, why do you slum it in Lowtown?"

"It's not mine." Before Varric could elaborate, the light flicked on. A female dwarf holding a gun met them, her makeup smeared and her face drawn up in a snarl. "Who the fuck-" And then she lowered the gun, eyes widening. "Varric?!"

Varric's face split into a grin. "Bianca Davri, what are you doing in Kirkwall?"

She dropped the gun and ran for them, tossing her arms around Varric and shouting, "You nug humper! I thought you were dead! What happened?"

"You thought I was dead?" Varric repeated, arms wrapping around the shorter and thinner dwarf. He glanced up at Hawke who was watching them unabashedly. Isabela tugged at Hawke's sleeve, though, pulling her away from the reunion. "Why would you think I was dead? We weren't even gone the full month!"

Bianca pulled back, hands lingering on Varric's elbows. "I... I got a call from Bartrand three weeks ago. He said he'd found your body in the Deep Roads. Varric, what is going on?"

Varric growled, glancing over at Hawke and Isabela. "Can you believe that fucking -- he was going to kill me!"

"Are you that surprised?" Isabela asked before grinning at Bianca. "Bee, you're lovely as ever."

Bianca snorted, rubbing her hands under her eyes to collect the smudged mascara. "Flatterer." Her gaze roved to Hawke, and she smiled. "Hawke, I wish it was under better circumstances, but it's nice to meet you."

Hawke smiled awkwardly, rubbing a hand over her arm. "You, too. Sorry we're meeting while I'm so... gross," she finished lamely.

"Even covered in soot you're divine," Bianca said graciously before turning back to Varric. "So, what is going on?"

Varric turned to the women, offering them an apologetic smile. "If you guys want to use the bathroom to wash up-"

"I need to get home," Hawke said quickly. "I need to make sure the others are alright. It'd be nice to know that Carver's cab got in safely, too."

Isabela yawned. "I need a shower, then a bath, then a drink. You two have fun. Hawke, split a cab?"

Hawke nodded gratefully, and Varric sighed. "I'll start looking for a buyer for all of this. Get some rest." He watched as the women wearily shuffled out before turning to Bianca.

Her expression had become hard once the others left. "What is Bartrand up to, Varric? Why would he try to kill you?"

"My guess? Sole access to the thaig," Varric sighed, kissing her cheek. "I'll tell you the whole sordid story, but I need a shower."

"You can get clean and talk at the same time," she murmured, following him into the bathroom. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Bianca looked severe and, beneath that, worried. "What happened down there?"

Varric undressed and entered the massive shower, flicking on the steam option and the double showerheads. He took a moment to melt against the wall of the stall, the hot water working out kinks he hadn't realized were there. "First off, Bartrand tried stealing the maps from the Hawke kids. Then he tried bombing his way through the damned thaig."

"I know the map bit. Start from the beginning of the expedition," Bianca interrupted.

Varric groaned. "It all started with breaking up into two groups - the Wounded Coast crew and the Sundermount crew...."

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke had gotten out of the cab and was immediately accosted by her brother. "Bethany's gone."

"She's...?" Hawke whispered, feeling her heart stammering. "What do you -- what?"

Carver grabbed Hawke's arm and dragged her into the home where her mother and uncle were. Her uncle Gamlen had been scarce since his family had moved into his apartment, yet there he was, sitting with Leandra, holding the listless woman's hands. "You're going to upset your mother," he chided them when they entered the flat, slamming the door behind them.

"Where is she?" Hawke demanded, torn between crying and shouting, her hands shaking.

Gamlen glared at her. "Templars came sniffing 'round, and she beat feet out the back window. Tried looking for her, but she hasn't shown up, and she left her phone. I couldn't neglect your mother; not like you lot did."

Hawke sank onto the sagging couch, one of her hands clutched to her chest. Her heart was hammering so hard that she thought it might burst. She couldn't see past the fog covering her vision, past the lightheaded rush the words had caused. Hawke couldn't get enough breath to her lungs. She felt like she was drowning.

Carver slapped her across the face, and she jolted out of her all-consuming dread, gasping for air. Her brother's gaze was hard as he stared at her. "This isn't time for a panic attack, Marian. We need to find her."

Hawke nodded quickly, getting to her feet. "You try the Chantry-"

"Why would she be at the Chantry?" Carver asked, incredulous.

"She used to hide in the Chantry when she was scared," Hawke snapped, remembering Bethany's ruddy little face peeking out from under the pews, tear-stained as her tiny shoulders shook with silent sobs. "I'll try the Hanged Man. If Isabela is there, maybe she can help."

Carver nodded. "Keep your phone close and the volume up. I'll call you if I find her."

"Same," Hawke breathed, already grabbing her jacket and pulling it around her shoulders.

 

* * *

 

Hawke had searched everywhere she could think to look when she received a text.

 _Anders 07:34 pm_  
I just found Bethany hiding in the clinic cellar. She told me to let you know she's safe and here.

Hawke nearly shouted with relief, calling Carver before doing anything else. "She's at Anders' clinic. Heading there now."

"I'll meet you," he replied, hanging up without another word.

Hawke took a cab in the hopes she would get there faster, but for some reason, the driver seemed intent on taking back roads to leave the ward. "Can we speed this shit up?" she demanded angrily, but her words didn't elicit much in the way of compliance.

When she finally reached the clinic, her sweet-faced sister was there and looking embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Marian!" she began while wringing her hands. "You told me about Anders being here, and I just thought I could hide here until-"

Hawke threw her arms around Bethany and pulled her close, checking the urge to cry from happiness. "You idiot," she whispered hotly. "You left your phone!"

"I didn't know if they could track it," she mumbled softly into Hawke's shoulder. "I didn't know if they knew about me, or if it was just a random search. I couldn't -- _Maker,_ Marian, I'm so sorry."

Hawke pulled back, eyes wet with withheld tears. "Don't apologize for being safe, you idiot. You just worried us."

Hawke glanced over at Anders who was offering them an awkward smile. "She can stay here for as long as she likes. I could always use a helper, and I'd make sure she's safe."

"Can I stay?" Bethany whispered hopefully.

"If this is what you want," Hawke replied carefully. "I am sure Carver and I can take care of Mother-"

"Bring her here," Anders interrupted. "It will get her out of that moldy thing you call a home. No offense," he added quickly.

Bethany squeezed Hawke's hands. "Please, Sister?"

Carver chose that moment to rush in, his face red; it seemed as though he had run all of the way from Hightown. "Bethany, you ass!" he exclaimed upon seeing her. He wrenched his twin from Hawke's arms and, in a rare show of compassion, hugged her close. "Why didn't you tell Gamlen where you were going?"

"There was no time. I'm sorry," Bethany whispered, voice trembling.

"Everything is fine, Carver," Anders began soothingly, reaching out to run a hand across Carver's arm. To Hawke's surprise, Carver didn't pull away. "Bethany is going to stay here with me. The Templars don't venture this far into the ward, and if they do, I will have more than enough forewarning to get Bethany out. It's much less dangerous for mages here than in Lowtown."

Carver sighed and released Bethany, turning to Hawke. "You're okay with this? Our sister scurrying around Darktown like a rat?"

"Hey," Anders protested, brow furrowing.

Hawke bit her lower lip. "Bethy is old enough to make her own choices. And if she and Mother are here, they will be better looked after. Maker knows we aren't around the house as often as we should be. And we'll have money soon, status, and we can grease the palms of whoever we need. We can make the clinic safer and protect Mother and Bethany."

"Two birds, one stone," Anders confirmed.

Carver sighed and shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing, Bethany Grace."

She smiled gently. "I don't, but that is no different than usual."

Hawke hugged Bethany again, kissing her cheek. "We'll bring Mother tomorrow. For now, we need showers and sleep."

"No kidding," Bethany wrinkled her nose cutely. "You smell like the ass end of a bronto."

"You'd best be nice to me," Hawke joked. "I risked life, limb, and soul to get back here."

Bethany raised her brow in skepticism. "Oh, really?"

"I was possessed. No big deal."

"She was," Anders confirmed when Bethany turned horrified eyes onto him. "She's fine now."

 

* * *

 

Carver had used all of the hot water by the time Hawke got to take her shower. She was too impatient to wait the hour for the hot water to replenish and stepped into the icy spray, dancing in place while she scrubbed her hair and body.

Hawke didn't mean to let her mind drift to Varric and Bianca, but it happened without warning. The dwarven woman was gorgeous. The stormy grey of her eyes was bewitching; like the sea before a squall. She had been dressed simply in juxtaposition to the lavish decadence of her apartment. Her long, pale brown hair had a natural curl to it and fell in waves to her waist. Hawke wondered if it was as silky as it looked.

Hawke jolted when she realized her hands had paused low on her belly, rubbing strange circles through the curls between her legs. She pulled her hands away and rinsed the conditioner from her hair, shivering in the cold water. She took the time to shave in spite of her goosebumps, wanting nothing more than to feel like a person again.

She toweled off and dressed in a clean pair of leggings, camisole, and an oversized wool sweater. She had just slunk into the bedroom she shared with her siblings when her phone buzzed from her side table where it was charging after three weeks of disuse. She slid onto the lumpy twin mattress and glanced over her display. Two missed texts, 19 missed emails, and one missed call. The emails were pointless - spam, mostly, so Hawke ignored those. The call had been from Varric, but he hadn't left a message. He had left both of her pending texts, though.

 _Varric 10:15 pm_  
Did you get any sleep?  
_Varric 10:25 pm_  
I would assume your silence means yes.

 _Me 10:26 pm_  
No sleep yet, too keyed up. Bethy got spooked by ~them.~ Ran off without a word. Found her, all good.

 _Varric 10:28 pm_  
Shit, Peaches. Want to come by? Still at Bee's but she wants to meet you properly.  
_Varric 10:29 pm_  
She says she has some amazing wine with your name on it.

 _Me 10:34 pm_  
No thanks. I think I'm just going to go for a run and see if that helps. If not, I think we still have some sleeping pills in here somewhere, if Gamlen hasn't snorted them in search of a free high.

 _Varric 10:35 pm_  
Trust Gamlen to ruin something else for you. Offer stands. Anytime. Night, Peaches.

Hawke swallowed and put her phone down. She glanced around the room, noticing that Carver had taken his charger when he had left the flat. He evidently didn't plan on coming back for the evening. Hawke had thought being alone for a night would be a welcome change, but the loneliness seemed to be cutting through her skin and leaving her shaky. She considered taking Varric up on his offer to spend some time with him and Bianca. It would be nice to get to know the other woman in Varric's life.

 _I'm the other woman,_ she realized with a jolt. The guilt that the thought brought down on her shoulders was staggering. She tried to tell herself that it was fine, that Bianca knew about Hawke and seemed okay with it. Pleased, even.

But still, the cold in Hawke's bones sharpened as she grabbed her phone.

 _Me 10:42 pm_  
Hey, going for a run. Wanna?

 _Bela 10:43 pm_  
Ur hilarious.  
_Bela 10:44 pm_  
It's 1044 hawkling. The only place I'm running is to the tub for a third soak.  
_Bela 10:44 pm_  
Wanna come over?

 _Me 10:47 pm_  
Only if I can take a soak, too. Carver used all the hot water and I am freezing.

 _Bela 10:50 pm_  
I will take any opportunity to get u naked in my apartment ;)  
_Bela 10:51 pm_  
I got wine, bath fizzies, and the plushest robes u will ever encounter. Get over here b4 I used all the hot water.

Hawke grabbed a small satchel from her chest of drawers and stuffed her wallet, charger, and phone into it. She checked her hair, which began to dry in a bedraggled mess, but she didn't have the energy to tame it. She looked tired and gaunt without any makeup or the grime from the Deep Roads to cover it.

Despite looking like a wayward refugee, Hawke shouldered her bag and went outside to flag a taxi down.

 

* * *

 

Hawke had never seen Isabela's apartment before in spite of having breakfast with the busty flirt at the patisserie below the carriagehouse-style loft many times. Hawke paid the cabbie and knocked on Isabela's door. She didn't have to wait long for the woman to come to the door, wearing absolutely nothing except a barely-fastened robe. "Hawkling!" she cried delightedly, pulling Hawke in before she could think of running. "I'm so glad you're here to share this red because I could drink it all in one sitting if left to myself."

Hawke kicked her flats off before following Isabela up the wrought iron stairs into the airy, high-ceilinged apartment. The main room was almost kitschy, paintings of ancient maps, compasses, and the ocean dominating most of the walls. Strings of lights bobbed above the living area, the pale blue giving the wood panel accent wall the feeling of being aboard a ship at sea.

"Wow," Hawke murmured, casting an appreciative eye around the room. It was indeed over the top, but Isabela's ownership somehow made it adorable and homey.

"I might have a slight obsession with all things nautical," she winked, stepping into the kitchen to pour a second glass of wine. "So, as flattered I am that you can't get enough of me, what's the matter?" She handed Hawke the glass.

Hawke sipped the wine before clearing her throat. "Bethany ran off. Templars almost caught her, but she's safe."

"Oh, Hawkling," she tutted, pulling Hawke into a one-armed hug. "I'm glad she's alright."

Hawke swallowed half of her glass, feeling her emotions clogging in her throat. "Bethy's with Anders, living there. Mother is going to be living there. Carver is off who-knows-where. I don't want to be there alone with my obnoxious uncle. I just... I don't know," she sighed, finishing her glass of wine and moving into the kitchen to pour more.

Isabela leaned against the small bar at the edge of the cabinets, frowning while she watched Hawke down the second glass. "I am sure meeting Bianca without warning didn't help."

Hawke rolled her eyes. She planned on arguing the point, but the wine was somehow already loosening her tongue. Plus, she had a tell according to her friends. "No, that was definitely awkward. I mean, I wanted to meet her, but not unexpectedly, not... not like that."

Hawke poured the rest of the bottle into her glass and Isabela chuckled, taking her elbow. "Come on. Bath time."

Hawke followed Isabela into her lavatory, a huge tiled room with a modern claw-footed tub in the center of it. Isabela removed her hand from Hawke's elbow to shift toward the tub, clicking the stopper into place and starting the hot water. The water was clean and clear and gushing from invisible taps along the base of the ceramic. Hawke wasn't sure if she'd ever seen something so decadent in her life, especially not after spending a year in Gamlen's decrepit flat.

Isabela glanced up at Hawke, a soft smirk on her lips. "Well? Get undressed and in the tub. Bubbles, oil, or fizzies?"

Hawke finished her wine before setting the glass on the counter beside Isabela's half-full one. She began to strip, trying not to make it obvious that her stomach was fluttering with butterflies. Something about Isabela had always made Hawke feel inferior. It was hard to strip in front of the most beautiful woman Hawke had ever met. "Oil," Hawke awkwardly replied as she slipped out of her sweater and leggings, standing in her panties and camisole for a moment, watching Isabela pour two capfuls of liquid into the water. She was suddenly very glad she suffered the cold water long enough to shave. Hawke took Isabela's moment of distraction to finish undressing before slipping into the steaming water, letting out a little yelp at the sea-scented heat.

Isabela chuckled and tilted her head, watching Hawke keenly for a moment before clicking the water spouts off. "Need anything? A book, your phone, a back massage?"

Hawke frowned, alcohol-muddled brain churning. "I thought you'd keep me company," she said finally. "I came here to have company."

Isabela smiled sneakily before moving to the sink, running a brush through her thick hair. She piled it all on top of her head, tying it off with a binding, and then dropped her robe. Isabela sauntered to the tub, hips swinging as she did, giving Hawke a long heartbeat to admire her silken, bare body. Her heavy breasts swayed with each step, and Hawke's breath got caught somewhere between her lungs and nose. The pale pink, healing scar from her encounter with the rock demon mended nicely, thanks to Anders' care.

Isabela slipped into the other side of the tub, her shapely legs sidling up along Hawke's inner thighs. Her toes gently rubbed against Hawke's thighs, and Hawke let out a breathy moan, startling herself. "Well, well," Isabela purred, getting bolder. One foot slipped a little closer, toes gently caressing against Hawke's sex. "I was so sure you'd be too scared to let me get close."

"Scared?" Hawke repeated. There was a flutter of awkwardness inside of her belly; she'd only been with one other woman, back when she was a quiet, shy girl of fifteen. They had been a bumbling mess the first few times, but they had learned one another's signs and bodies over the year of their secret tryst. It had only ended because Tallis had been sent off to a boarding school in Tevinter by her awful parents.

"I'm not scared," Hawke whispered, gradually moving to straddle one of Isabela's legs, slowly sliding up the woman's body until her knee pressed into the heat between Isabela's legs. Hawke leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Isabela's neck and leaning in for a kiss.

Isabela, unlike Hawke, was a natural at all things sensual. Her dark fingers slid through Hawke's hair and down to her neck, pulling her the final inches. Isabela's lips were soft and full and left Hawke feeling overwhelmed at first; almost as if she was kissing a pillow. But she got over it quickly when Isabela pressed a bit harder, a small groan slipping from her lips. Isabela's hands slid down from her neck to her sides, smoothing across her hips and kneading the flesh there, beginning to rock Hawke against her muscled thigh.

Hawke whimpered. Her clit was already pulsing with desire and the friction against Isabela was making it hard to think. Which was Isabela's plan the whole time, Hawke realized with a start, pulling free of the kiss. "You cheat, you're just trying to distract me from my whining," Hawke whispered hotly against Isabela's collarbone, dragging her tongue across the sharp cleft where the bone met her shoulder.

"We all need a little distraction sometimes, Hawkling," Isabela purred sweetly before nipping Hawke's earlobe.

Hawke shuddered, her hips sliding faster across Isabela's leg, hand traveling across the albatross on Isabela's chest, caressing her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and fingering the blue gem pierced in her navel. Her left hand finally slipped lower, finding the perfectly smooth mound of Isabela's sex. The woman let out a soft groan as Hawke's finger slid between her lips and tweaked her clit, caressing softly.

"Hawke, I'm not made of glass," Isabela laughed, grabbing Hawke's hand and pressing it in harder. Isabela jolted at the touch and guided Hawke in rough circles around her engorged nub. The woman's hips bucked into Hawke's hand, and Hawke let out a sharp moan, flipping her hand around to glide two fingers into Isabela's drenched passage. Her palm continued its rough ruminations on Isabela's clit, and Isabela mewled in pleasure, arching, breasts pressing into Hawke's less ample chest.

Hawke lowered her head to the swell of Isabela's dusky breasts, her tongue swirling around a thick nipple, her teeth nipping experimentally. Isabela groaned in appreciation and Hawke dragged her teeth across the woman's flesh, loving the sounds she made in response. Even so, Isabela seemed to be growing impatient because she leaned in, grabbing a thick mouthful of Hawke's neck in her teeth, sucking. Light exploded in Hawke's vision, the pain and pleasure of it nearly taking her breath away. Her pelvis sped up against Isabela's thigh, and she felt her release coming on, threatening to spill over her.

Isabela released her neck and whispered hotly in her ear, "Let me see you come undone, Hawkling."

Hawke let out a strangled noise she'd never heard before, eyes closing and brow furrowing as the sharp, almost painful, orgasm ripped through her. She gasped and whined, head falling to Isabela's shoulder, fingers immobile inside of Isabela as she shuddered. It took her entire minutes to catch her breath and still her shaking.

Isabela chuckled, wrapping her arms around Hawke. "What do you say to some food and beer? I know a perfect spot not far-"

Hawke pulled away, her apex and thighs still raw from the orgasm and friction. "You think you're getting off that easily?"

"Well, I was thinking I wasn't getting off at all," Isabela teased, winking.

Hawke smirked, shaking her head. The woman was the best kind of insufferable. "Get on the tub."

Isabela's eyebrows rose in intrigue as she disentangled herself from Hawke, sitting on the lip of the porcelain tub. Hawke slowly moved Isabela's legs to drape them over the opposite edge and around Hawke's shoulders before pressing her lips to the smooth labia in front of her, kissing roughly, teeth nipping at her lips. Isabela jolted and moaned, making Hawke pull back slightly. "Don't fucking fall, Bela, I don't want to explain how you cracked your head open to an ER doctor."

"Or Anders?" Isabela teased.

Hawke groaned and winced, but Isabela didn't let her dwell on it for long. The woman reached out, grabbing a fistful of Hawke's short locks and pulling her in. "If you want it, take it."

Hawke delved between her legs, trying to shake off the nerves. It had been too long since she'd familiarized herself so intimately with a woman, but it seemed to come back relatively quickly. Her tongue and lips worked on Isabela's clit, pulling the nub into her mouth and sucking while her tongue circled. Her fingers slid into Isabela, her hooked index finger feeling for her g-spot and pressing against it firmly, loving the way Isabela had begun to arch. Her pelvis pushed into Hawke's face roughly, and Hawke added her middle finger to Isabela's passage, slick with the bath's oil and her desire, thrusting.

"Harder," Isabela panted. She had begun to shudder, her thighs tensing against Hawke's face. The fist still in Hawke's hair tightened painfully, but Hawke barely noticed it past the savory musk of Isabela's cunt. Her teeth scraped gently across Isabela's clit, and the woman howled in pleasure, gasping, her breath coming out in ragged stutters. Hawke's fingers sped up, the digit on her bundle of nerves pushing in harshly.

Isabela came with a shattered sob, her body a livewire of jolts and shudders, one hand gripping the porcelain lip of the tub and the other still clenched in Hawke's hair. Hawke winced at the force of her hand but said nothing, instead lapping across Isabela's sex, collecting her juices before moving to kiss across her thighs. Isabela chuckled when she finally came down, her hand releasing Hawke's hair and smoothing through the strands. "Eager to please, aren't you?" she asked, but the words were said tenderly. "I should call you Puppy."

Hawke looked up at Isabela, smirking. "I still need to find a suitably disgusting nickname for you, you know. Bela and Rivaini just don't do it for me anymore."

Isabela groaned, carefully sliding off of the tub and getting gingerly to her still-weak legs. "Are you planning on buying matching outfits for us, too? I assumed we were just having fun."

"You wound me," Hawke chuckled, pulling herself out of the tub, accepting the towel Isabela handed her. "I was thinking the same thing. Doesn't mean I can't have a nickname for you."

Isabela grinned and conceded, going to her sink and finishing her now-warm wine with a wince. Isabela let her hair down, fluffing the waves before dabbing on a bit of makeup. As she rimmed her eyes with kohl, she asked, "Tacos?" At Hawke's giggle, Isabela simpered, "Naughty girl. I mean the food. To eat."

"I'm down for something besides porridge and dehydrated fruits and meat," Hawke admitted. She sidled up beside Isabela, wrapping the towel around her as she glanced over the plethora of makeup and hair products enviously. "Bela...."

The woman snorted, looking at Hawke in the mirror. "Yes, love. I would be thrilled to get my hands on your face... again."

Hawke pursed her lips, trying very hard not to laugh. The giddy feeling in her chest wouldn't leave, though, and she chuckled in spite of herself. It had been too long. Hawke felt bad for a moment when she realized she'd asked Varric for time and then shoved her tongue into Isabela without a thought. Varric didn't seem like the envious type, but it made Hawke's heart stammer anyway.

"Not too much kohl," she said as Isabela turned to her with a contouring pallet. "And don't make me look like a clown."

"Ouch," Isabela laughed, grabbing a brush and dabbing it in the pale powder. "Now it's your turn to wound me, Puppy."

 

* * *

 

It was four in the morning before Hawke and Isabela tripped into Gamlen's flat, giggling and fumbling with one another as they stumbled toward Hawke's shared bedroom. They had spent the early morning hours getting free warm beer and tacos from guys at the bar, fawning on one another the entire time. Most of it was because they were drunk and insatiably horny, but some of it was for the men's entertainment - free beer for being willingly handsy was never a bad thing.

But they had retired finally when the late-night restaurant and makeshift bar closed, stumbling through the docks and nearly falling into the water twice. They made out against a seedy looking foundry and Hawke, unable to control herself with the alcohol clogging her body, had dragged Isabela into an alley to go down on her, sloppy and feverish in her need to feel something more than her impending depression spiral.

Her family was falling apart. Her mother had checked out long ago, but it didn't make things easier. Her brother was off somewhere, needing space or quiet or something less savory. And now Bethany was living with Anders, her brother's ex, fearing for her freedom and possibly her life. Varric was with Bianca, the lovely, seemingly perfect dwarf. Isabela was willing to fool around, but that only stemmed the loneliness for as long as Hawke was around her. Hawke wondered, briefly, if Fenris was interested. He didn't seem interested. And was she even interested in him, or was it the crisis burning through her that made it look reasonable?

When Hawke and Isabela finally managed to get into Hawke's room, the women flopped unceremoniously onto Hawke's too-small bed. Isabela, always one to return a favor with gusto, stripped Hawke of her leggings and panties, busying herself between Hawke's legs. Hawke stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus but finding her mind wandering.

What were Varric and Bianca doing at four in the morning? Were they sleeping? Were they fucking? Envy - for both of them - flittered through Hawke's belly as she imagined them together; imagined Bianca's hand possessively curling in Varric's chest hair, her perfect, hourglass body riding him.

Hawke came with a soft cry, shuddering and staring at the water stains above her. She barely noticed when Isabela slid in beside her, draping her sea-scented body across Hawke's side. "What's wrong, Puppy?" she asked, a thumb brushing Hawke's cheek.

Hawke hadn't noticed she was crying. She blinked wetly and murmured, "Just glad to be out of that damn thaig."

Isabela clucked sympathetically and held her close, falling into a deep sleep in mere moments. Hawke tried to stem the tears, but nothing, not even Isabela's warmth, seemed to dissipate the cold in her bones.


	9. Unwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke has a rough day, Bethany gives some sound advice to her struggling sister, a game of Wicked Grace brings Hawke and Bianca closer, and Hawke and Varric have a pleasant evening together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> **Chapter Notes/Warnings: Light Hawke/Varric smut.**
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song is ["Unwind," by Healy](https://open.spotify.com/track/6ZljnCVxgY8UKsqs1urMMc).

* * *

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

Carver hadn't returned home the next day, Isabela had slipped out at some point in the morning, and Varric hadn't texted her. Hawke wasn't sure why she was surprised at all of this, but she somehow was. She had assumed that Carver would at least have the decency to help her get their mother to her new home. She had thought that Isabela would at least wake her up before leaving. She had hoped Varric would send her a text in the morning with some silly anecdote or a poorly photoshopped picture of Anders covered in cats.

But, alas, none of her thoughts were accurate, and she was left carting her mother in and out of a taxi at six in the evening after giving up on Carver's help.

"Where is Carver?" Bethany had asked after she helped Hawke get their mother into a creaking rocking chair by the baseboard heater.

"Hello, Bethany," Hawke groused, sinking onto one of the patient cots. "It's good to see you, too! How did you sleep last night? Oh, me? Rather terribly. I ended up hooking up with a friend and then getting ditched and waking up alone."

Bethany blinked, eyes widening before she sank down beside Hawke and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Do you want me to kill that blighted dwarf? I can set fire to his bed if you let me into his room."

It was Hawke's turn to be surprised. "What? No. No, it wasn't Varric. It was Isabela."

"You hooked up with Isabela?" a voice asked from behind them. Hawke jumped off of the cot and spun, finding Anders on the ground a few yards away, cleaning out bedpans.

"Andraste's tits, Anders," she snapped. "Quit poking your nose into things."

Anders' brow furrowed. "Poking my... I've been here the entire time!"

"He has," Bethany confirmed unhelpfully.

Hawke sighed and shook her head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, I hooked up with Isabela. It just kind of happened?"

Bethany raised a brow. "She just happened to fall face-first into your vagina?" Anders ducked his head and began scrubbing more vigorously at the bedpan in his lap. His tied back hair gave a perfect view of his flushed neck.

Hawke couldn't help the smile that pulled her exhausted face upward. Her sister somehow made everything more manageable. Hawke's smile dipped as she thought of Bethany not being there when Hawke woke up, not clucking over Hawke's bedraggled appearance or lack of proper clothing for the weather.

"I miss you so much," Hawke said suddenly, grabbing Bethany and pulling her in. She buried her face into Bethany's waves, smelling her usual scent of crystal grace. "I missed you in the Deep Roads, and now you're not at home and... I just don't know what to do, Bethy. I can't trust myself not to do the stupidest of stupid things without your level head."

Bethany chuckled gently and held Hawke close, rubbing soothing circles across her sweater. "You're being dramatic," she murmured, kissing Hawke's temple. "I'm a short drive away, and you always have my number. You act like I've gone and died. I'm right here, Marian. Now, what's wrong?"

Hawke sighed and sagged into her sister a little more. "I met Bianca."

Bethany pulled back, mouth a small _o_ of surprise. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Hawke groaned, running a hand through her hair. "She's gorgeous, of course, and so sweet. And she cares about him so much, you know? I know she knows about me, but... shit, Bethy."

Bethany took Hawke's hands in hers. "I can't tell you what to do, Sister. But I know you don't get feelings for just anyone. Maker, I haven't seen you with anyone in ages. If you have feelings for him, and if she is fine with it... I don't see the problem. Just be honest with them."

Hawke groaned. She knew Bethany was right; Bethany was always right in matters of the heart. Even so, it wasn't a firmly decisive answer, and Hawke felt more torn because of it.

The taxi cab loitering outside honked and startled Hawke. "I need to go," she sighed, kissing Bethany's cheek. "Want to come by the Hanged Man later?"

"For a moment." Bethany squeezed Hawke's hands. "Say goodbye to Mother first."

Hawke hated how uncomfortable the vacant matriarch made her. It wasn't right to be awkward around her own mother; a mother who wasn't half bad, who had never hit her or abused her in any way. Even so, Leandra's far-off, heartbroken face unnerved Hawke more than darkspawn ever had.

Hawke lowered herself to her mother's side, putting her hand on Leandra's. It was smooth and warm, the skin feeling papery and loose after so long of not eating enough. "Mom, I'm leaving now. Let Bethy know if I need to come down, and I'll be here in a jiffy." She felt stupid telling her nearly comatose mother to let Bethany know anything - and for using the word _jiffy._ She kissed her mother's cheek and returned to Bethany, offering her a wry smile. "Let me know if anything happens."

"Of course," Bethany breathed, squeezing Hawke's hand as she moved toward the door. "Tell Carver to come to the Hanged Man with you!"

"I will if I find him," Hawke returned with a chuckle, waving goodbye.

As she was leaving, she heard Anders ask, "Who is Bianca?" He was answered only with a sigh and then silence.

 

* * *

 

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric had spent a significant portion of the day lining up buyers for the gold they had acquired in the Deep Roads. He had found two trusted buyers who were willing to take five kilos each upon inspection, but that still left him with fifteen kilos. Varric would probably have to wait for his two qualified buyers to need more stock before he could sell the rest. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with tossing gold to people he didn't know or trust.

He also didn't feel comfortable with how silent Hawke had been all day. Varric hadn't texted her that morning, forgetting the ritual after so long underground. The niggling feeling that something had slipped his mind haunted him all afternoon, and he finally realized what it was while Bianca was mid-blowjob. He had thought to text her then, right then, but forced himself to swallow down the panic and let things ride. Hawke was an adult. Hawke wouldn't be mad about something as simple as a missed text.

Weary and needing a drink, Varric found his way to the Hanged Man. The air smelled especially musky when he entered for the first time in nearly a month; it was an excellent mix of mold and piss with a touch of spilled beer.  Corff called out to him, and Norah hugged him, ushering him to the usual table. It had been cordoned off with tacky purple rope. "In mourning of your absence," Norah had half-joked as she moved the cord to let him in.

"VIP table at the Hanged Man," Varric laughed, taking his usual seat under the growling heating unit. "Nice addition to the place. I'm sure it will drive up the re-sell value."

Norah had rolled her eyes and smirked. "Are the others coming by? Want a pitcher?"

Varric checked his watch. Seven. The others usually assembled within the hour, so he nodded. "The best stuff you got."

Norah wrinkled her nose. "You know the beer is not the best stuff we have."

"Then a pitcher of your beer and two bottles of your best whiskey."

Norah nodded and stepped toward the bar when Isabela and Fenris arrived, arguing about something - as usual. Varric thought he caught mention of _how wide a human's legs could open before snapping a tendon_ before Isabela broke off to lean over, kissing Varric's cheek. "Vee, where's Bee?" She loved the line and giggled whenever she got to use it.

Varric didn't even care enough to roll his eyes at her. "She's finishing up some work stuff with the Merchants' Guild. She'll be by at some point." He waited for the pair to settle in at the table before glancing at Fenris. "What's with the scowl? You're back in the sunlight and you're going to be rich."

Fenris sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing over at Isabela. "Are you going to tell him or am I?"

Isabela chuckled, turning her chocolatey eyes to Varric. "Puppy -- _Hawkling_ came by my place last night. We had a good time - tacos and beer."

Fenris grumbled something, but Norah arrived with their drinks, setting down the alcohol, steins, and shot glasses. "We have some nachos in the back," she offered, raising a brow at Fenris' scowl. "Want a party plate?"

"Yes!" Isabela exclaimed cheerily. "I worked up an appetite last night."

Varric regarded her, understanding in an instant what had Fenris so annoyed and Isabela so cheerful. "Worked up an appetite eating and drinking?" he asked with a chuckle, leaning forward to pour a shot for himself, downing it immediately. Norah left, and Varric took another shot before pouring a glass of beer.

Isabela was interrupted by Hawke gliding it, shrugging off her new wool peacoat and scarf. Her off-the-shoulder black top was tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. She slid into her usual chair across from Isabela and to Varric's right, her tight black jeans caressing her thighs. Varric swallowed back the desire that Hawke could inspire with something as simple as sitting down.

Hawke tossed her bangs out of her eyes and grinned at him, but he could tell something was bothering her; she hadn't kissed his cheek like she always did. "Where's Bianca?" she asked.

Varric wasn't sure if Bianca was what was bothering Hawke, but he doubted it was. Hawke had wanted to meet Bianca. Hawke had seemed thrilled at the prospect, even. "She'll be by later. Beer?"

"Shot," she corrected, grabbing a shooter and pouring it to the brim with whiskey. She downed three in a row before slamming her glass against the table, wincing. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Already?" Isabela teased. Fenris groaned and poured beer for all of them, muttering about needed alcohol injected directly into his brain.

"So... this happened?" Varric asked, unable to keep the smirk from his mouth as he looked between the charming grin of Isabela and the slightly embarrassed grimace of Hawke.

"You told him?" Hawke accused without any heat. "I thought we said I would tell him?"

"You were late, so I was getting around to the sordid tale. But then you stepped in with that sweet, sweet ass and distracted us all."

"I need to leave," Fenris interrupted, pushing back from the table and slipping through the growing crowd toward the bar.

"Now I feel bad," Hawke muttered, sipping her beer.

"Don't," Varric grinned, nodding toward the counter. Through a break in the crowd, Hawke turned to see her sister at the bar, talking with Fenris and tucking her hair gingerly behind her ear.

"No," Hawke breathed, eyes widening. She whirled on Varric, her previous awkwardness gone, a disbelieving grin on her face. "How long has this been going on? He knows she's a mage, right? Holy flaming shit, Varric, are-"

Varric smirked and pressed a finger to Hawke's lips, halting her words in an instant. He watched her eyelids twitch, the smallest of flutters, but it was there and made Varric's concern disappear. "There is plenty worse than Sunshine cheering Broody up a bit, wouldn't you say?" Hawke didn't respond. She chose to lick his finger instead, startling him enough that he pulled back, laughing. "So, how was last night? Did Isabela take good care of you, or was she as much of a tease as she seems?"

Hawke's cheeks flamed, but she grinned, biting her lower lip and casting a coy glance across the table to Isabela. "Well, it was rather nice until she took off while I was sleeping."

"Oof," Varric groaned. "Damn, Rivaini, that's cold."

Isabela's eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her albatross in shock. "I would never abandon such a sweet piece without reason, Puppy. I am fairly positive we covered this when you were a demon, and I still slept next to you. By the way, you would sleep through an air raid. Your creepy uncle came into the room and called me a whore. Told me to get out or he'd call the Guard."

Hawke's eyes widened. "Gamlen... ewww! I wasn't wearing any pants!"

Varric couldn't help the snort that ripped from him. He tried to cover it by drinking his beer but nearly choked when another laugh fell through his facade. He glanced up just in time to see Bianca slipping through the crowd, offering him a dazzling smile. She descended on him, kissing him deeply without a word before moving toward Isabela, pressing her lips to Isabela's cheek. "Issy, we need to get together for that spa day while I'm here."

"Yes, please," Isabela chuckled, slapping Bianca's ass as the dwarf moved around the table toward Hawke.

Varric watched Hawke tense and found himself actually worrying. Hawke had seemed fine with Bianca before, but that was before. Before she had come face-to-face with the lovely woman, before it was forced down her throat without warning.

Bianca sidled up beside Hawke and wrapped her arms around the human's shoulder, saying, "Hawke, I can tell you are my new favorite person."

Hawke blinked, confused, and Bianca took the moment to kiss her cheek before sliding into the chair beside her. "Alright!" Bianca exclaimed, pouring herself a shot. "Let's get this shit started. Varric, you got the cards?" Over her shoulder she shouted, loud enough to be heard over the din, "Fenris! Get that scrawny ass over here! Wicked Grace!"

Fenris and Bethany approached, both looking innocent. Too innocent. Hawke smirked at Bethany, and her little sister had the grace to look embarrassed.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

By the end of the seventh hand of Wicked Grace, Bethany called a cab and left, stumbling, with Fenris as her mostly-sober escort. Hawke had somehow found her way onto Isabela's lap, but the night was becoming a blur from which Hawke couldn't break free.

"Another round!" Bianca called to Norah, making Varric and Hawke groan. Hawke's tolerance had tanked since being in the Deep Roads, and she was using Isabela's shoulder as a pillow more often than not. She assumed Varric was feeling similarly since it was taking all of his concentration to play his cards. Normally he would be knee-deep in a tale of bravery. Hawke was surprised he wasn't regaling Bianca with their exploits below ground.

The thought made Hawke swallow down her nerves and lean across the table toward Bianca who had taken Hawke's abandoned seat. "Bianca, did Varric tell you I got possessed for, like, the _entire_ expedition?"

Bianca's smile widened, and she leaned over too, their noses almost touching. "This sounds fantastic. Tell me right fucking now."

Hawke regaled her with the tale until Varric's snorts led her to snap, "Okay, you ass, go for it. I was the possessed one, but yeah, you know better than me."

Bianca was laughing, perfect peels of laughter, and Varric's smile widened as he looked between them. "First off, Peaches, you weren't even aware of yourself while you were possessed. And second, I can tell that goddamn dragon part _so_ much better."

Bianca grinned, biting her lower lip. "Well?"

"Well, what Hawke failed to mention is that she looked very chicken-like, charging around with her hands tied in front of her."

"I did not!"

"She did," Isabela confirmed, kissing Hawke's neck to quiet her huffs of displeasure.

Bianca was already thrilled. "A gorgeous, possessed chicken. Got it."

Hawke tried to hide her shit-eating grin but failed, watching Bianca's stormy eyes flit toward hers and hold them.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

It was three in the morning before Bianca yawned and pushed herself away from the table. "I need my sleep, you degenerates. Get to bed at some point." She pressed a kiss to Varric's lips before sliding around the table, hugging Isabela and Hawke in one motion. Bianca looked as if she was going to pull away but lingered for a minute. "Hawke," she said with a slowly spreading smirk, "I want to kiss you."

Hawke grinned and leaned down, her lips meeting Bianca's. Varric's breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his eyes away from their mouths, turning his attention to Bianca's hand. It was on Hawke's thigh and tightening into a fist as they kissed. Varric let out the breath and smothered his smile. Bianca had her tells when she was getting aroused; the hand tightening was one of them. Varric was surprised that her fingers weren't fisting a handful of Hawke's hair.

"Night, Bee," Hawke murmured as they parted, voice deeper and softer.

"Night, Peaches," she purred, and Hawke's eyelids fluttered beautifully. Bianca placed a last kiss to Hawke's mouth before slipping out of the bar with only a backward glance, and a wink, to Varric.

"Okay, Puppy," Isabela breathed, helping the woman up, "as much as I love your company, I need sleep and sleep would not happen if you come with me. Not after that kiss. Woof," Isabela fanned her face. "You got her, Vee?"

"Yep," he said quickly, getting to his feet in case Hawke began to stumble. "Your place or mine, Peaches?"

Hawke snorted and kissed Isabela goodbye before turning her attention back to Varric. "Now that I know Gamlen goes snooping around when I'm sleeping, I think your room would be a better fit for now."

"Good call," Varric said, wrapping an arm around the small of her back and pulling her in close, leading her toward the rear of the bar. He unlocked the back room, led her up the rickety steps, and opened his front door for her.

His plants were dead, of course, and they still flopped listlessly on the ledge of his window. Between Bianca and attempting to sell the gold, Varric hadn't had much time for cleaning up. He left the lights off, the blue glow of his TV's indicator bar enough ambient light for them to drunkenly move around the room. Hawke went to the bed immediately, hands going to the button on her jeans, but Varric stopped her.

"Hold on," he murmured, coming to stand beside her, a hand curving over the small of her back. She pressed into his hand and, emboldened, he slid his fingers down to her ass, stroking across the thin, tight material of the jeans that had hypnotized him all night. His hand slid across the seam between her cheeks before easing against her thighs, gently stroking a finger across her hidden apex. The material was slightly damp, just a hint of arousal, but it made Varric's mouth water.

Hawke turned slowly, and Varric's hand caressed over her thigh to her sex. His fingers made their way over the button on her jeans but passed it, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She wavered for a moment but kept standing, and Varric decided that slow and sensual might be the wrong idea while they were still upright. He grabbed her shirt and pulled it up, Hawke stooping slightly to allow him to drag it over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, and the first sight of her bare breasts made his breath hitch. He pressed his lips to the top swell of her chest, the closest thing he could reach, before bending his head to run his tongue over the pert nipple. Hawke groaned, her hands moving to his hair, tugging at the tie holding it back.

Varric pulled back and gently pushed her down onto the bed, moving to her jeans. He slid them down her legs with some assistance from Hawke's wiggling hips. The smell of her engulfed him, and he let out a shuddering breath. His cock was already straining in want, but he held himself back and slowly peeled her wet panties off of her, tossing them aside.

She sat up on her elbows and smirked at him, and Varric's heart stuttered. "Get naked, or I'll have to tear that gorgeous button down of yours. Red is definitely your color, by the way."

Trust Hawke to talk about fashion while sprawled on a bed, bare to the world, ordering someone to get their clothes off. Varric chuckled and pulled her up to him, leaning down to kiss her suddenly shorter self. "I seem to have forgotten how to work the buttons. Tiny buttons and sausage fingers, you know."

"I do not," she purred, her slender hands making quick work of his shirt and smoothing it off of his shoulders. Her mouth was on his chest immediately, tongue sliding over a nipple before kissing her way across his chest hair to the other. Her fingers were working their magic on his jeans, carefully but quickly undoing the button and zipper around his straining cock. Her mouth moved up to his neck, her body straining to reach it on the short platform bed, tongue gliding across his jugular.

That was when Varric noticed the bruise on her neck. He laughed, unable to help himself, brushing a finger across the dark blotch and watching Hawke flinch slightly. "Isabela went and marked you. I guess you're her property now."

"Jealous?" she snorted against his clavicle, nipping the bone. "I'm my own property, Varric Tethras, and don't forget it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he breathed, pushing her back onto the bed. He slid out of his underwear and lowered himself to the edge of the bed, pulling her legs so that she slipped toward him. Her giggle of delight turned to a moan as Varric kissed over her thighs before licking his way to her warm, wet center. His mouth caressed over her passage, tonguing and teasing the entrance. She began to writhe beneath him, pressing her pelvis against his face, but he grabbed her hips harshly, pinning her. "Slow down, sweetheart," he breathed. "Can't rush this kind of thing."

"That's not what Isabela thought," Hawke tried to goad him, bucking against his hold.

"That is why you're going to be coming back to me nightly and not Rivaini," Varric returned silkily before delving back into her. His tongue focused on her passage until she was mewling in a mix of pleasure and annoyance, hips thrusting as best as they could, her pelvis trying to lower to force him upward. Varric held back a chuckle, moving up the slick skin to her molten clit, sucking it between his lips, tongue lavishing it in attention.

Hawke was howling by the time he made the transition to her nub, and he glanced up over the flat plain of her muscled abdomen to watch as she clutched her breasts, nails cutting deep furrows into the milky skin. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy as she shouted, coming hard and loud, her thighs tightening around his head. Varric licked his way down to her passage, gently tonguing her until she groaned, a hand pushing at his head. "Varric, get up here."

Varric dropped to the bed beside her and she immediately covered his mouth with hers, tongue attacking his with a vigor he hadn't expected from a woman just brought to a crushing orgasm. Hawke, it seemed, had a higher stamina than he had expected. Perhaps it was a human thing, he thought - or _would_ have thought, had his cock not just been taken deep into Hawke's mouth.

"Fuck," he stuttered, unable to articulate properly. Hawke struggled to fit all of his girth into her mouth - even so, she untiringly sucked him, each twitch of his cock against the back of her throat eliciting a groan. She didn't gag and, realizing this, Varric almost came immediately thinking of the fun they were going to have together.

Hawke's tongue slid over his tip, and he yelped a very un-manly yelp, making her giggle. The vibration and her steadily speeding up bobs made his breath hitch, a hand fisting in her hair. One of her hands moved from his thigh to the fingers in his hair, pushing, causing his hand to force her down further. Varric couldn't believe she was still able to breathe. He leaned up on his elbow to watch her. Hawke grinned around him, and her free hand slid between his legs, rubbing her fingers gently along his balls.

"Oh," he uttered, not sure why he had chosen such an odd word to express his admiration. Hawke glanced up at him, and he gasped. Her eyes met his and held them, the look of pure desire in them sending Varric over the edge. He tried to push her away, but she latched onto him. Varric fell back on the bed, grunting past gritted teeth as she swallowed each burst of semen, sucking each drop she could from him. Hawke licked her way around his flagging member, collecting anything she had missed and allowing Varric to catch his breath. When she finally pulled back, she kissed his thighs and turned for the bathroom.

"Hey," he called, sitting up slightly. "Where are you running off to?"

Hawke smirked at him, leaning on one hip. The TV light left her silhouette in a perfect outline. "There's a reason I left a toothbrush here, Tethras." She kept walking before he could call her back. He'd never had a problem with his partners tasting like him - he didn't understand people who _did._ Even so, he got under the covers and pulled them back for her, eyes drifting closed. He tried to stay awake, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle. By the time Hawke was finally sliding back into bed beside him, he lurched, broken free from his doze.

"Tired?" she teased, curling up beside him, kissing his bicep.

"You've bested me this time, Peaches," he replied, voice a deep grumble. He pulled her against his side, stroking her hair. "Shit's not weird, right?"

"Nope, we're perfect, Tethras," she confirmed with a minty yawn.


	10. Fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke spends most of her first installment of sovereigns on a new car, apartment, and furnishings - with help from Bianca. Hawke and Bianca get closer. Hawke and Varric begin to move their relationship forward. Hawke and Bianca plan a housewarming party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Notes/Warnings: Super brief Hawke/Bianca canoodling. Hawke/Varric smut.**
> 
>  
> 
> The song inspiration for this chapter goes to ["Fancy," by Iggy Azalea.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3oiMJQAWVaxSubJ7b2VUtX) Please enjoy!

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke stood in the middle of the dealership, looking around her at all of the vehicles. Her first installment from Varric had come two days ago - 70 sovereigns - and, though he hadn't delivered the payment himself, it didn't concern her. She knew how busy sponsors got when money was involved.

So, she had spent her week of solitude with Isabela in the evening and looking at apartments through Lowtown in the daylight. She hadn't found anything that she liked, of course - the flat beside Isabela had black mold in the ceiling, a problem that the landlord assured her _would clear up in summer._ There was a townhouse up the street from the Hanged Man, but that one was sidled up beside the nosiest brewery Hawke had ever encountered.

There was also a tiny apartment that was even smaller than Varric's room above the Hanged Man. That one was clean, at least, and was the current leader in her apartment hunt. Even so, she wasn't sure how she felt about not getting the one thing she'd always wanted - a walk-in closet with a built-in shoe rack. White, preferably, but the color was negotiable.

As she looked between the cheapest cars, her phone buzzed against her hip. She wiggled her phone out of her pocket, cursing her awful attempt to get a better deal by showing off the perfect curve of her ass. She finally grappled her cell out and swiped her fingerpad across the reader. It clicked on, a text from Varric swimming up.

 _Varric 02:11 pm_  
Hey gorgeous. Where are you?

 _Me 02:12 pm_  
Keeping tabs?  
_Me 02:12 pm_  
Looking at used cars. Not loving the selection tbh

 _Varric 02:13 pm_  
You're going car shopping without me? Damn. I *could* have talked them down ten sovereigns at min.

Hawke smirked. She thought about playing coy, citing his hard work to get everyone paid, and entertaining his visiting girlfriend, but she decided to take the high road and not make him feel like an ass for not seeing her in person for a week. _The_ week. The week after they had their mouths all over one another.

 _Me 02:14 pm_  
Lemane lot in L town if you want to help

 _Varric 02:16 pm_  
Lemane's gonna screw you. Monetarily. I'll come pick you up and we'll go see my guy.

 _Me 02:18 pm_  
Your guy? You don't even have a car

 _Varric 02:20 pm_  
I do have a car actually, you just need rides when I'm too drunk to drive her. Omw. Be near the entrance, don't want to tango with Lemane. May or may not have dissuaded a handful of customers from buying his shit... he might still be mad.

Hawke slid her phone back into her pocket with some difficulty and sauntered toward the sidewalk near the entrance. She wiggled in her ram-wool coat, dancing from one foot to the other to stay warm. It was getting too cold for Hawke to breathe without her lungs aching. She didn't remember it being this cold when they arrived in Kirkwall a little over a year prior.

Varric arrived soon enough and Hawke gawked at the gorgeous car he was driving. It was a small sports car, one that Hawke didn't know the name of but was fairly sure she saw advertised on billboards all over Hightown. It was low to the ground, sleek, and so black that it seemed to absorb and devour the very light around it.

"Andraste's ass, Varric, why haven't I seen this before?" she gaped as she slid into the passenger seat. And then quickly added, "I can't afford a sports car. If you're taking me to a Tevinter imports lot, let me save you some time right now."

Varric leaned over, brushing her lips against his. She smiled and caressed a hand over his cheek in response. Varric pulled back and said, "I've missed you too, Peaches. Seatbelt."

She smirked and leaned back into the bucket seat, fastening her seatbelt over her lap. Varric turned out into the lane, and the car purred softly like a cat. Hawke groaned as the heated seat warmed her nearly-frozen ass. "Shit, this is fantastic. But I can't afford something like this."

"I didn't say you needed to buy a sports car," he said patiently, deftly maneuvering into a turn lane and slipping between oncoming traffic, the car gliding toward Hightown. "He's got tons of cars there, new and used, and he's a good guy. Has his own repair shop, too. Cheapest I've seen around for imports."

"Ah, so I was right. Imports."

"Starkhaven, not Tevinter - I have standards. Anyway, save the judgments until we get there." He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it. "Is it weird for me to repeat how much I missed you?"

Hawke tried to bite down her smile. "Smooth talker. I missed you, too. How's Bianca?"

"Good," he said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "She was hoping you might come with me for dinner tonight."

Hawke groaned, leaning her head back. "That sounds perfect, but I really need to get this apartment thing figured out. As nice as staying with Bela is, I'm starting to feel like I'm intruding."

"You know you can stay with me," he offered as if it was obvious. "For as long as you need."

She rolled her eyes, head lolling toward him. "That's sweet, but I need my own place. There's nothing but shit in Lowtown, so I guess I need to look at the Market District."

Varric glanced over at her, an eyebrow cocked, before he turned his attention back to the road. "You're not living in the Market District; there are muggings galore through there."

"Varric, I've been living in the squalor of _low_ -Lowtown. There's nothing the Market District could throw at me that I haven't seen a million times worse in Lowtown."

"Bianca's building has some vacancies," he slid into the conversation right as they pulled into a lot that sported none of the brightly colored balloons that most did. This one, Hawke could tell, prided itself in _sophistication._ It made her skin crawl. "Secure access, you can program your door for multiple people...."

Hawke chuckled and chewed the inside of her cheek. Living somewhere secure would be good, given that Bethany was still not entirely protected. Maybe she could convince Bethy to come back home if _home_ was safer than Anders' clinic. "Maybe," she conceded with a soft sigh. "Maybe I could check in with their office before dinner with Bianca?" Varric's smile was wider than she'd ever seen it as they left his car.

Within two minutes of wandering the lot, none other than the owner himself approached them. He was a well-dressed man with the palest blue eyes Hawke had ever seen. They were lighter than hers and Hawke hadn't realized such a thing was possible. "Varric!" he exclaimed, his heavy accent rich, his voice melodic. He clapped the dwarf on the back before turning his attention to Hawke. She knew the expression on his face before he seemed to realize he was making it. The man's eyes had widened and slipped down and up her body before a delightful blush hit his cheeks, and he stammered, "Miss, apologies, where are my manners? I am Sebastian Vael, a close associate of Varric's."

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Marian Hawke, another one of Varric's associates," she grinned, shaking Sebastian's hand. She was suddenly very pleased she chosen the tight pants. Sebastian seemed unable to keep his eyes from dipping to her thighs.

"Choir Boy here is the heir to his father's automobile empire," Varric said, winking at Sebastian's flush. "The prince of Starkhaven autos."

Sebastian sighed. "You know I hate that nickname. I moved out here to get away from it." He turned his attention back to Hawke. "Varric helped me get situated here in Kirkwall; permits, mostly."

"And some palm greasing," Varric added.

Sebastian cleared his throat as if he hadn't heard. "Anyway. What brings you two here? Looking for another car, or simply a... visit?" he asked, eyes returning to Hawke, his gaze holding hers.

"A car," Hawke agreed. "But I don't want anything fancy. Something reliable, mostly. Something that could hold camping and climbing gear would be great, too."

Sebastian seemed to have entered a no-nonsense persona because his smile was all business. "Of course. Something roomy, good storage, but affordable. Follow me; I think I have exactly what you're looking for."

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric had to admit; he was feeling pretty good about the deal he had gotten Hawke on her new vehicle. The thing was a monster in Varric's eyes, and she even needed to get nerf bars installed so Varric could get into it. He cursed his short legs for the first time in a long time when Hawke fell in love with that SUV.

It was red, her favorite color, and it had an insane amount of hauling space in the back. The tires could go anywhere there was a path, or so Sebastian had said. For an adventurer like Hawke, it was practically wedding bells from then on.

They drove to Bianca's complex after joyriding in Hawke's new vehicle for a while. They had stopped at a liquor store to buy some fine wine for dinner - a white and a red - and Varric found himself genuinely pleased when Hawke grinned at him, saying, "I'm really excited for this. Wicked Grace was fun, but it'll be nice to hang out... in private."

Varric had wrapped his arm around her waist after that, not letting her out of hand's reach until they had to get back in her SUV. She was more than he deserved, and part of him wondered if the only reason she hung around him was due to her soul-crushing loneliness. The thought made him cold, and he pushed it from his mind before it could affect him further.

When they arrived at the complex, Hawke tapped on the office's door while Varric glanced around the lobby as if he'd never been there before. He notched the bag of wine in the bend of his elbow, glad that it looked like any bag of groceries, and waited.

Hawke spoke to the landlord for a few moments before the blonde, over-the-top Orlesian showed them to a vast and sprawling three-bedroom apartment just three floors below Bianca's. Hawke tried to appear as if she wasn't gaping, but Varric was sure that he heard her jaw snap when she saw the master bedroom's closet.

"Is this... is this in all of the apartments?" she breathed, walking into the room and touching the shoe rack, and then the floor-to-ceiling mirror beside it.

"All of our apartments, yes," the woman grinned, smelling the easy sell. "Do you two have children?"

Hawke blanched and glanced at Varric. Varric's grin only grew, and Hawke fumbled out, "Oh, um, no. We don't, ah. No."

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed, still smiling but looking confused. "Well, this has ample living space-"

Hawke's phone shrilled and she frowned, grabbing it. "One second, I..." she trailed off, reading over her screen. Her grimace deepened, and she sighed, sliding the phone back into her pocket. "I guess I don't need a three bedroom. My sister and mother decided not to move."

Varric touched her arm gently as the landlord led them up two floors to view a single bedroom. Hawke offered him a forced smile and shrugged, mouthing, _Little sisters are dumb._

The single bedroom was still twice the size of Varric's apartment and had a massive bathroom. The shower had four shower heads, two against each side wall, and a steam option. And, of course, the bedroom had a walk-in closet.

"I'll take it," Hawke breathed before pausing, glancing at Varric. "Bianca won't care I'm moving in here, right?"

Varric snorted. "You're kidding me, right? Bianca is the one who suggested it."

The pair went down to the office, and Hawke put down a deposit and her application. The landlord promised to call the second she had an answer, and Varric led Hawke, suddenly dazed, toward the elevator. "Well, Hawke. How does it feel?" he teased softly, a hand sliding around her waist, fingers slipping under her tight sweater to caress the skin of her hip. "New car, new apartment...."

"I don't have the apartment yet," she chuckled, looking far-off as she leaned into him. "It feels good, I just... I wish Bethany would get the hell out of Darktown."

"As much as I hate Sunshine being down there," Varric began carefully, "she is an adult and Anders would die for her. And your mother. I think being in the clinic will give her a purpose she hasn't had since you came here to Kirkwall. She just wants to help, and she can help there; not while stuck in an apartment."

Hawke sighed and leaned down to kiss him. "You're right. I'm being selfish."

"It's not selfish to worry." He pulled her into another kiss, one that neither pulled away from until the elevator doors opened. He led her toward Bianca's door and glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Ready?"

She smiled and nodded. "Ready."

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

The dinner and wine had been excellent, and by the time Hawke found herself on the couch in the living room, nursing a glass of the best whiskey she'd ever tasted, she felt completely at home. Bianca had been the most gracious host that Hawke had ever encountered - she was charming and witty with just the right edge of flirty.

And, Hawke was somewhat embarrassed to admit, it didn't hurt that Bianca's flirtations seemed all for Hawke.

Bianca came out of the kitchen with her own tumbler and sat down beside Hawke, angled to face her, their knees pressing against one another's. Hawke didn't back away from the pressure; in fact, she leaned into it. Bianca seemed to appreciate that, her smile tilting upward. "So, Hawke, how have you liked your first year in Kirkwall?"

Hawke chuckled, sipping from her glass. "Well, it was really awful for the first half of the year. But then we met Varric, and he invested in our venture-" Bianca winked at her and Hawke snickered, called out. "To be honest, the last half of the year was only bearable because of Varric. And, to a lesser extent, Isabela. But Varric and I got close, and things got better each month - not that you didn't know all of this."

"True, I just wanted to hear it from you," she returned, leaning in a bit. "I'm glad he has you, Hawke. I really, truly am."

Hawke could hear Varric still clearing away the dishes. She swallowed, fighting back the urge to touch Bianca. Her skin looked so soft, and her lips were so full and so pink. "I'm... I'm glad, too."

Bianca reached out with one of her hands, placing it on Hawke's cheek. Her fingers were cold from her chilled tumbler, but they felt amazing on Hawke's alcohol-blushed face. Hawke let out a soft noise, eyes meeting Bianca's, and the dwarf leaned in, mouth hovering only inches from Hawke. Hawke closed the distance between them, unable to help herself. Bianca was utterly bewitching. Hawke wasn't even sure how she had managed to enchant Varric when he already had Bianca.

Bianca's hand slid into Hawke's hair, pulling her in, tongue slipping across her lower lip and between her teeth, caressing sensually over Hawke's. Hawke groaned, and her free hand found Bianca's tapered waist, pulling her closer.

They were interrupted by Varric saying, "So, the dishes are done, and I think we should -- oh."

Bianca sighed and pulled back slightly, glancing over her shoulder at Varric. He was standing next to a blue and silver accent chair, unable to tamp down the grin on his face. "You interrupted."

"Don't stop on my account," he replied easily, coming over to take their glasses from them, setting the tumblers on the coffee table. "I can sit here quietly. Or leave, I guess, but that seems unnecessarily cruel."

Hawke snorted and hooked Bianca's chin with a finger, drawing her face back. Their lips met against and the hesitation Varric had caused melted. Bianca, both hands now free, slid onto Hawke's lap, resting most of her weight on her thighs. Her hands were in Hawke's hair, smoothing through the silky locks, and Hawke's hands went to Bianca's waist. Their tongues struggled with one another between gentle caresses, and Hawke's fingers began to roam. They slid up and under Bianca's tank top, feeling the creamy skin beneath her calloused fingertips.

Bianca pulled away too soon, and Hawke mewled in displeasure. The dwarf chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to Hawke's jaw before sliding off of her lap. "I really need to get these Guild reports done tonight to submit at tomorrow's meeting, and I won't be able to if I stay here another second. Varric, you and Hawke should get set up in the guest room." She turned to wink at Hawke and Hawke flushed through the desire clogging her body.

Varric seemed to be in the same boat. Bianca kissed him goodnight before brushing a hand over the straining bulge in his jeans. "Goodnight," Bianca called to them before slipping into what appeared to be her bedroom.

"That was... abrupt," Hawke breathed. Her clit was thrumming with need.

Varric stood, adjusting himself before nodding toward the short hallway to their left. "Guest room is this way."

Hawke followed him, her confusion morphing into awkwardness. She hadn't been sure where her moment with Bianca would lead, but she hadn't expected Bianca to saunter off, leaving Hawke horny and confused. Varric flipped on the light, and they found themselves standing in a gorgeous room with a view of the complex's courtyard, lit only by fairy lights strung through the garden. "We should probably get some sleep," Varric said, but it was more like a question he needed the answer to as he undid the button of his jeans slowly.

Hawke snorted and wiggled out of her tight pants, putting her phone on the side table. She slid out of her sweater, tossing her bra and panties down with absolutely no care for decorum or romance. The time for that was over. She didn't want sweetness. "Get undressed and fuck me," she said simply, tossing the duvet back and slipping onto the pale blue sheets.

Varric was already sliding his jeans off, working the buttons of his shirt while he said, "You sure, Peaches? You're ready for that?"

She glowered at him but chose not to answer, instead sliding a hand down her abdomen and thrusting two fingers roughly into her sex. She arched, breath falling from her mouth in ragged pants and she sped up, head thrown back in desire. When she finally looked at him, he was standing naked, his cock hard and bobbing, watching her work with rapt attention. He glanced up at her and his mouth twitched upward in a cavalier grin.

He was too blase - he looked too calm. Hawke couldn't abide by it. "I like Bianca," she whispered, her soft tone drawing him closer so he could hear her. He was against the bed, the perfect height. She reached out with her foot, stroking it against his cock and watching his eyes flutter closed. "I am a little disappointed she had to work tonight. It would have been nice... her and me."

Varric smirked, his eyes darkening with lust as he leaning into her foot. "You'd like that?"

"I would. I'd like the three of us together, too."

Varric grunted and pushed her foot away, getting onto the bed between her legs and swatting her thighs apart to account for his width. There was no foreplay or preamble, which Hawke was grateful for. Varric merely moved her hand from her drenched sex and slid inside, pushing his way through her tightness and making her arch and groan in pained pleasure.

Varric sped up, goading her to moan louder, his thumb pressing roughly against her clit as their bodies slammed together. Hawke raked her nails down his back, and he arched into her, panting against her breasts when he leaned his head down to her. It seemed that Varric decided to use his time wisely; he lavishing her nipples with his tongue and teeth, listening to her breathy ecstasy. Hawke, in the back of her mind, knew that he was making a mental note of all the things that made her jolt, storing them for later. The realization made her grin wolfishly until a hard thrust hit her cervix and made her yelp in pain - and gratification. 

Hawke gripped his arms tightly and his head suddenly snapped up, brow furrowing. She realized, too late, that her nails were digging into his flesh; she didn't have time to rectify her mistake, though, because Varric grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides. Hawke struggled perfunctorily, moaning as she did, and Varric thrust into her a little harder, a bit faster. Her groans were becoming ragged and full of curses and praises in equal measures. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, and she came with a long, guttural wail.

Varric slowed his pace, leisurely sliding against her, watching her as she mewled, how her eyes fluttered with each press of his cock against her. He kissed her deeply and Hawke, having finally relaxed after her orgasm, ran a gentle hand through his hair, caressing his face.

Varric came not long after, grunting as her passage tightened around his cock and pulled him in further. He shouted a surprised expletive, his cock pulsing inside of her, before groaning the rest of the way through the wave washing over him. He stayed inside of her, eyes closed, breathing thickly for a few moments. Hawke watched him sleepily, grinning when he finally opened his eyes. She was fairly sure she looked like a pleased house cat.

Varric pulled out of her and helped her slide up to the pillows. He looked as if he planned on leaving the bed but she grabbed his wrist, nestling into the thick goose down and mumbling, "Come to bed."

Varric wanted to clean up, but seeing her fading quickly and calling to him, he couldn't tell her no. "Shit's still not weird?" he asked, more in amusement of the ritual than concern.

"Nope, we're perfect," she mumbled.

Varric settled himself beside her, pulling her against him, her head tucked under his chin. Hawke fell asleep to the gentle rasp of his stubble against her forehead and the sound of his deep breathing in her ears.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric was awoken by a shrill song he recognized immediately. Hawke's ringtone. He sighed and reached out to the side table, hand swatting uselessly around until he found it. He glanced at the display, squinting against the screen's brightness. It was an unknown number, but definitely from Kirkwall. "Peaches," he mumbled, shoving the phone toward her. "Call."

"You get it," she moaned, covering her face with her pillow.

Varric sighed and answered the phone if for no other reason than to stop the irritating song playing through her speakers. "Hawke's phone."

"Oh... hello, this is Marie from Amell Place-"

"Hi, Marie. Marian's asleep. Is there something I can pass along when she wakes up?"

"Oh, of course. Please tell Marian that she's approved. The apartment is ready for move-in anytime. If she would like to come by sometime today to sign paperwork and pay her dues-"

"We're actually visiting another one of your residents. She can be down in a few hours if that works?"

"Of course!"

They said their goodbyes and Varric leaned over, kissing Hawke's bare shoulder. "Peaches, it looks like you've got your own place."

"Yay," she mumbled, the word turning into a snore shortly after.

 

* * *

 

Varric hadn't been able to pull himself out of the office for nearly three days. Between updating the Merchants' Guild and Bartrand's clients about Bartrand's flight from the business, and looking for more gold buyers, he had fallen asleep at his desk two nights in a row. There was so much paperwork to file that he felt like he was drowning.

He grumbled and decided to take a quick break from hating everything; he swiped his phone on. He had been receiving silly pictures from Hawke and Bianca over the past days. The first one had been of the pair painting an accent wall in Hawke's apartment. Hawke had been on top of the ladder, taking a picture of a coy Bianca painting the lower half of the wall. Another photo featured Hawke sprawled on the tarp, laughing, her roller somehow on her head, her face flecked with tomato-red paint. The following text was: _She didn't listen to me. No one's arms are that long, I said. And then she fell off the ladder._

Another photo slid through of paint-speckled Hawke and Bianca posing with phallic vegetables at the store and receiving disgusted looks from everyone in the background. Another featured Hawke's open-mouthed amazement at the sheer amount of red cookware in the housing store they had stopped in. Hawke had sent an artsy black-and-white of Bianca staring out over the Waking Sea in Darktown. There was also a selfie from Hawke's phone; one with Bianca and Bethany's faces pressed in on either side of Hawke's. Bianca was kissing Hawke's grin-dimpled cheek; Bethany was flushed and giggling, eyes closed, her chin resting on Hawke's shoulder. Varric had saved that one as his phone background, hating and loving how much it made him smile.

He glanced at his office phone and sighed. The Merchants' Guild was notorious for never calling when he was around, so he thought about leaving early. It was the end of the week, and he wanted nothing more than to see his girls. He winced and mentally made a note never to use that phrase in front of either of them.

His phone buzzed and, of course, it was another picture. This one was from Bianca and featured her and Hawke in Hawke's SUV, holding coffees and sporting dark sunglasses.

 _Bee 06:53 pm_  
Prison break! We're outside, don't keep us waiting!

Varric snorted and glanced at his office phone, and then his email, before shrugging to himself. He closed down the office, double-checking the new steel doors to ensure they locked, and then left.

The SUV, the bane of his existence, idled quietly at the curb. Bianca opened her door to get out, but Varric waved her off, opening the back door and sliding in with a bit of difficulty. "Thank you, ladies; I would have gone insane if I'd been forced to look at another invoice." He leaned forward, pecking a quick kiss to both of their cheeks before clicking his seatbelt into place.

"We figured," Hawke chuckled. "That's why we're throwing a party."

"A party?" Varric repeated.

"A housewarming," Bianca nodded, looking pleased. "We've officially finished getting Hawke established."

"Unfortunately, I am also so close to being broke I cannot handle it," Hawke tried to laugh, but Varric heard the almost-panic just barely held back.

"The expensive part is over," Bianca assured her.

"And I'm going to get you another payment by the end of next week," Varric added, hoping it would calm her. He'd never seen Hawke sincerely worried about anything other than her sister, but Isabela had mentioned that their first night together, Hawke had been close to hysteria. Varric was hoping to keep her from that pain a second time for as long as he could.

Hawke nodded, letting out a little breath before grinning. "Anyway, the party's in a few hours, so you'll have time to get a shower and change."

Varric almost asked if he really needed a shower, but considering how fresh everything else seemed, he was sure he smelled awful. He'd been living in the same clothes for three days. "Good idea. I have some clothes at your place, right?"

"Yep," Bianca confirmed, sipping her coffee. "Peachy, why don't you come up once you put your bags down. Time to pregame the party."

 _"Oh Maker,_ yes. I'm going to need a pleasant buzz if I'm going to be in a one-bedroom apartment with my sister, the guys she wants to bone, my brother, the guy he used to bone, and the three people I'm planning on boning in the near future."

Bianca laughed delightedly as Hawke deftly slid the behemoth of a vehicle into her apartment-issued parking spot. They all got out, Varric with more trouble than Bianca, and Hawke practically galloped to the front door, sliding her finger across the reader.

"She's never going to get tired of these doors," Bianca chuckled in an undertone.

Varric kissed Bianca's temple. "How's it been going?"

"Perfect," Bianca said, sounding surprised as the words left her mouth. "It's effortless. I know you told me it would be, I just didn't believe it at first. You did good, Vee," she added, kissing his jaw.

"She has a thing for you, you know," Varric added softly as they drew closer to Hawke. The tall woman was holding the door for them, looking sexy, dangerous, and aloof in her leather jacket and massive sunglasses.

"I know," Bianca chuckled softly. "Which is good since I have a thing for her, too."

The conversation drew to a close as they passed through the doors with Hawke, filing into the elevator. Hawke had bags on her elbow, and Varric thought he saw decorate pillows inside. Bianca's idea, he was sure. Bianca adored pillows. Hawke left them to put her new purchases in her apartment, and Varric glanced at Bianca. "Are you making her spend all of her money on decorative pillows?"

Bianca chuckled at Varric's teasing tone and leaned against the wall of the elevator. "I bought those for her. She didn't want decorative pillows for her couch or bed, can you believe that?"

"She's a girl of simple tastes." Varric tried to smother his grin as he leaned in to steal a kiss from her. "I couldn't afford another Davri. Too extravagant."

"Damn straight," Bianca returned smoothly, kissing him as the elevator door slid open. "Don't lose your job, Tethras, or I'm out." She winked, and he laughed, watching as she swayed toward her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case y'all were curious, their cars were modeled off of actual cars. Hawke's was based on a [Lincoln MKC](http://st.motortrend.com/uploads/sites/10/2016/05/2017-lincoln-mkc-fwd-suv-angular-front.png) and Varric's was based on an [Aston Martin Virage](http://www.roadsmile.com/images/aston-martin-virage_black_9.jpg).


	11. No Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke has a housewarming party, as well as an after-party with Varric and Bianca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Warnings: Smut, f/f/m threesome.**
> 
>  
> 
> The song for this chapter's title is [ "No Sleep," by Wiz Khalifa.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2kzRSiyignH8yzPTrWvyPo) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

It was around 10 pm before Hawke felt herself relax. She'd anticipated a fight to break out; some kind of verbal outburst, more than likely being started by Carver. To her surprise, everyone decided to be on their best behavior. Hawke was thankful for it, of course, but she sipped from her beer bottle while scanning the room in disbelief and mild - _very_ mild - disappointment.

"I told you it would be fine," Bianca said, sidling up beside Hawke and bumping her upper thigh with her hip. "Everyone looks fine. Your brother isn't exactly charming, mind you, but he's sullenly pleasant. Not sure about your mage friend, though. Something about him seems... off."

"He and Carver used to be a thing," Hawke replied, a little louder than she should have. She blanched when Anders glanced over at her with a raised brow. Luckily it seemed that Carver hadn't heard her over the almost-annoying volume of pop-rap spilling from her new television surround sound. "He runs that clinic we went to yesterday."

Bianca nodded, holding her glass of wine close, covering her lips with the rim. "It's not that. There's just something weird." She shrugged, forcing a smile. "Nevermind, I'm probably just close to shitfaced." She stretched onto her toes and Hawke dutifully bent to kiss her.

"So, how many people here are you sleeping with now?"

It seemed Carver decided to pay attention at the most inconvenient moment. Hawke sighed, righting herself but wrapping an arm casually around Bianca's back. "Jealous, Carver? Sorry scowling at your victims doesn't work anymore."

Carver's eyes narrowed as he looked at them. He decided to let it go, shockingly, and muttered, "Nice place, but I need to get to work."

"Work?" Hawke repeated, raising a brow at him. "Where are you working?"

He glowered, hackles up again. "Does it matter? You ran off and got a life outside of the family, why can't I?"

"Hey," Bianca tried to interrupt, her tone silky, "why don't we take a step back-"

Carver rolled his eyes. "I always thought you'd wear the pants in your numerous relationships, Marian." His own eyes widened as if he hadn't meant to voice his opinion. "I... I need to go to work."

Hawke felt a nasty wave of anger curl through her belly, her fingers tingling with rage. She swallowed it down, blinking rapidly to clear the sudden bloodlust that rose within her. She wanted to hit him. She wanted him to beg for her mercy. But instead, Hawke waved her beer bottle absently toward the door. "Then go."

Carver stood in front of her for a few moments, waiting, but Hawke said nothing. She stared at him, not blinking until he sighed and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Fucking asshole," Hawke snapped, just barely restraining herself from flinging her bottle at the wall.

Bianca rubbed comforting circles against her lower back. "I'm sorry."

Bethany approached awkwardly; her gentle face was pulled up in anxiousness. "What happened?"

"He had to go to work," Hawke replied, her voice clipped. She didn't want to be short with Bethany, the perfect Hawke, but it was hard to taste anything past the copper in her throat. "And insult me, of course. The usual."

Bethany bit her lower lip and glanced at the door. "He lives in your shadow, Marian. He's jealous and embarrassed and-" she broke off, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It doesn't excuse anything."

Hawke shrugged as if it didn't bother her, kissing Bethany's cheek before untangling herself from Bianca's arm and weaving around her sister. She glided into the kitchen, dodging Anders' concerned face and Fenris' unabashed staring at Bethany's ass.

Varric glanced up from where he was mixing a drink, grimacing. "What happened?"

She shrugged, opening the refrigerator and grabbing another beer. Varric took it from her to pop the cap before handing it back. "It was just Carver," she said, taking a long draw from her bottle. "You know. Being Carver."

Varric finished making his drink and leaned against the wall, regarding her. "What will make you forget it?"

She snorted, leaning her head back to stare at the whiter-than-white ceiling. "Maybe a shooting range, a run, or karaoke."

"I can make karaoke happen," Varric replied, spreading his hands as if he'd performed a miracle. "Karaoke it is. We don't have a machine, but we can do this."

Hawke snorted and clinked her bottle against his glass. "Make it happen, Master Tethras."

"Master," Varric repeated with a grin. "I could get used to that." Not waiting for a retort, Varric moved into the main room, clapping and calling, "Alright you boring people, we've got a direct order from our lovely Marian that we need karaoke to happen right now."

Isabela, who ducked back in from the bathroom grinned, tossing her freshly brushed waves over her shoulder. "Did I hear karaoke? Oooh, Puppy, you know how to woo a girl! Fenris! Fenris, do a duet with me, you saucy silver-haired siren."

"No," Fenris replied blankly, getting to his feet. "I should go before this gets more embarrassing."

"Bethy, you'll do it, right?" Hawke asked sweetly. To Fenris, she added, "Bethy sings like a goddess, I swear."

Fenris glowered but sat back down, motioning for them to continue. Hawke glanced at Varric, wiggling her brows, and the dwarf laughed, "Alright! We don't have mics. Or wordless music. So just... sing really loud."

"This is dumb," Fenris grumbled.

"You're dumb," Anders, not on his wordplay game, replied. Fenris looked ready to lash out, but Bethany's adorable giggle stayed his hand. The elf rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Hawke. "You're lucky your home is new, I'll refrain from staining your carpets."

"Appreciated," she returned, raising her bottle to him before slipping further into the living room to slide in next to Bethany, wrapping an arm around her sister. "What do you say, Bethy? Wanna carry me through a song?"

"Only if we can do my favorite..." she grinned mischievously.

Hawke sighed and glanced over at Varric. "I regret everything. Queue up Windows."

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric was noticing a lot more than Hawke was, it seemed. The eldest Hawke was dancing through the living room between her dwindling guests. Bethany had discreetly slipped out with Fenris, putting a finger to her lips when she caught Varric watching. Anders had been on his phone since Carver had left, texting 'someone.' Anders had stuck around through karaoke politely, watching the women drink and sing off-key. After that, though, he had left in the midst of a dance-off between Bianca and Isabela.

Isabela sat down on Hawke's red-pillow-covered black couch, gasping as she fanned air to her face. "You win, Bee. You're incredibly limber for someone with stubby legs."

"Oh, you have no idea, Issy," Bianca grinned, glancing over at Varric. "Show's over; Vee, get Hawke out there and let us ogle for a minute."

Before Varric could say anything, Hawke frowned. "Where did everyone else go?"

"They left sporadically," Varric answered cryptically. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it still made his teeth hurt misleading her. Lies had always been his forte, but he never liked doing it to people he cared for.

Isabela looked between them all before chuckling, getting to her feet. "I'm going to head back-"

"Bela, you can't walk back to Lowtown; you'll get killed," Hawke interrupted, getting to her feet and grabbing Isabela's arm. "Hey, seriously. You can't."

"She's right," Bianca spoke up, noticing the pinched, annoyed look crossing Isabela's face. "I have a spare room. Fresh sheets after these two soiled them," she added, making Isabela laugh, irritation forgotten.

"Fine, but I won't like it," Isabela conceded, letting Bianca lead her out of the apartment and toward the elevator.

Varric looked at Hawke and offered her a small grin. "And suddenly a silence fell."

Hawke chuckled, taking another sip of her beer. "That's an intriguing hook for a novel, huh?"

"Eh, not bad," Varric shrugged.

"Well, I like it," Hawke mused for a moment, eyes unblinkingly regarding him. "Thanks for skipping out on work for this. It was fun."

"I just showed up, ate your food and drank your booze," Varric replied, getting off of the bar stool and joining her on the couch. She slid lower, tucking her head on his shoulder. Varric slid an arm around her and kissed the top of her head, whispering, "You okay?"

Hawke nodded slightly, but a deep sigh followed it. "I don't know, Varric. I'm kind of a mess. I don't know why I'm a mess; it just feels like everything is out of my control. We were doing so well at first - Bethany, Carver and I were together against the world. We didn't fight... not much. And when we did, we worked through it. Now Carver just storms off, and I get so fucking _mad_ at him. I know it's stupid to feel like this, it's just a thing that's happening, but...."

The door opened before Varric could offer any compassion or support. He didn't know what to say; he didn't know if there was anything that anyone could say to make her feel better.

Bianca closed the door behind her and locked it, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Hawke. "Oh, Peaches, what is it?" she asked gently, coming to sit on her other side.

"It's just my stupid brother," she muttered, wiping at her cheeks. Varric hadn't realized she'd started to cry and felt horrible for it. "And all of this... it just feels like it's all going to fall apart any minute."

"All of what?" Bianca asked, running a hand over Hawke's arm.

Hawke sat up and waved her hand absently around her. "This. This apartment, this sudden wealth, my siblings being safe and..." she trailed off for a moment before whispering, "you guys. Isabela. I don't want to fuck things up. I am always fucking things up."

Bianca looked up at Varric, eyes wide in concern. Varric swallowed and squeezed Hawke's hand. "I think what you need are a hot shower and a foot massage."

Hawke snorted, wiping her eyes and grumbling, "That does sound nice."

Bianca stood and led Hawke into the bathroom, not bothering to look back at Varric.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke stumbled into the large shower, feeling sorry for herself and wanting enough decadence to drown in. She turned on all four of the showerheads and flipped the steam on, watching it filter down from the grate above the shower. She let out a soft sigh and sank down onto the tile, letting the scalding water thrash against her back.

"I'm going to be right here if you need anything, Marian," Bianca called through the glass door.

Hawke glanced up. Bianca had never used her first name before. "Do you..." Hawke cleared her throat and tried again. "You don't have to stay out there. There's plenty of room in here for me to feel sorry for myself and you to try to cheer me up."

Bianca didn't hesitate. Hawke couldn't hear her getting undressed, but she was suddenly there in the shower, lowering herself to the stone in front of Hawke, the steam flattening and damping her hair. Bianca reached out to her and Hawke leaned in, tucking her face into Bianca's shoulder. "Shit's getting weird," she whispered.

Bianca ran a hand through her wet strands of hair. "Varric told me about your deal."

"Another promise, broken," Hawke chuckled wetly, trying very hard not to cry. "It's been weird from the first time," she admitted. "It's just been... hard. I think about him constantly. I just..." she sighed. "I don't know."

Bianca tilted Hawke's chin up, stormcloud eyes meeting Hawke's. "You love him, Peaches. And I am fairly sure he loves you, too. Now - what's weird about it?"

Hawke swallowed thickly. "You." Bianca bit her lower lip, waiting. Hawke let out a pained sigh. "You and Varric are flawless. How can you be okay with me meddling in what you have?"

Bianca's laugh started Hawke. The dwarf tried to calm her peals but couldn't quite tamp them down. Hawke watched her, surprised at the reaction. Bianca stifled her giggles and pulled Hawke into a hug, kissing her cheek. "Marian, I can't be here for Varric like he needs me to, and it's only going to become more difficult between us in the future. I'm just glad he chose so well with you." Bianca pulled back and held Hawke's face in her hands. "You are perfect for him and, if I can be unseasonably romantic, I think you're perfect for _us._ I know you don't know me as well yet, but-"

Hawke cut Bianca off with a kiss. It was rough and not at all what Hawke intended. Her emotions were in turmoil, and all she knew was that Bianca was trying to help and Bianca was helping more than anyone else had since Hawke's father died.

Bianca's hands slid from her face to her neck, gently holding her in place as she trailed hot kisses across Hawke's collarbone and down her sternum, kissing between her breasts before flicking her tongue over Hawke's nipples. Hawke gasped softly, a hand in Bianca's wet hair, holding her in place as she gently grazed a nipple with her teeth before sucking it into her mouth. She stopped too soon and Hawke groaned in reply. Bianca chuckled and kissed her gently, murmuring, "Varric's waiting. You want to wash up a bit, or are you ready?"

Hawke had taken a shower just that morning but did get to her feet to raise her face to one of the showerheads. Bianca moved to her side and pumped a bit of gel into her hands, smoothing it along Hawke's hips and abdomen, caressing her breasts for longer than needed to wash them. Hawke leaned into her hands and Bianca moved them lower, one easing between her legs and the other hovering at the small of her back. A finger slid between Hawke's folds, and she gasped, arching as Bianca's skilled digit caressed her clitoris, her mouth trailing kisses down her arm.

Once again, seemingly always a tease, Bianca pulled away, swatting Hawke's ass. "Come on, Peaches." Bianca left the shower without another word, her shapely hips swinging. Hawke keened, turning off the shower and the steam.

Bianca was already toweling off and sliding into the slip of clothing she brought from her apartment - a lacy negligee that left nothing to the imagination. Not that Hawke needed an imagination, she admitted as she toweled off.

"Do you need to me grab anything for you to wear? Something more comfortable than jeans and a teeshirt?" Bianca offered, her eyes glinting playfully.

"Um," was Hawke's unhelpful response.

Bianca smirked. "I'm going to go rifling through your underwear drawer unless you protest?"

Hawke shook her head numbly, mentally hoping she didn't have any stained or holey clothes that Bianca might find and judge her for. Bianca left the bathroom and Hawke took a moment to tend to her toiletries - face cream, deodorant, and lotioning her body. She had just finished running lotion over her legs when Bianca returned, holding up a new pair of red underwear that still had the tags attached.

"Oh," Hawke shifted awkwardly. "I was actually planning on returning those. Not very practical," she mumbled.

Bianca raised an eyebrow at her, looking back at the underwear set. "Hawke, these are the sexiest undies I've ever seen. You humans get the cutest stuff, I swear." Bianca pushed them into her hands and murmured, "Varric's getting worried I ate you, so you'd better hurry out." She winked before slipping back through the door.

Hawke sighed, cutting off the tags with a pair of hair shears before sliding into the panties. The slender thong was a faint strip of red lace connected with three thin black straps. The bra was similarly scant; the entire thing was made up of crisscrossing black strips connecting two red pieces over her nipples. Hawke stared at herself in the fogged bathroom mirror, feeling too undressed. She let out a puff of anxious breath, reaching for her robe before opening the door.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

"How is she?"

"Anxious, self-conscious, sad," Bianca sighed, leaning against the foot of Hawke's four-poster bed. "She's messed up, Varric. I don't know what's going on in her head, but she's drowning in it."

Varric swallowed. "What do we do?"

Bianca shrugged, glancing toward the closed bathroom door. "What can we do? Be here for her, try to get her to talk things out. Get Isabela and Bethany on board. Try to talk to Carver and get him not to be such a raging asshole all the time."

Varric snorted, unable to help it, and wrapped his arms around Bianca's waist. "How long were you able to extend the trip?"

"The end of next week," she sighed. "I'm going to try to get Hawke out a bit. Take her on a spa day with Issy, see if Bethany can sneak away for lunch. If we can just keep her occupied, she might open up."

Varric didn't want her to leave, of course, be he understood her responsibilities. It didn't make things easier, but he understood. "Does Bogdan know you're here?"

"Of course he does, I'm technically here on official business," she chuckled dryly. "Cleaning up Bartrand's mess and getting you set up as the sole Tethras prince," she teased, but there was a glimmer of something in her eyes. "The Guild is getting nervous about you not having an heir."

"Well, you can tell them I have two women now, neither of which want my babies," he tried to joke.

Bianca didn't seem to find it funny. "Varric, we've been over this-"

"I know," he interrupted, kissing her neck. If Bianca did get pregnant, it would be Bogdan's child, no matter the parentage. Even if the baby arrived golden-haired and brown eyed. Even if it was so apparently a Tethras child.

She pushed him back a bit, pursing her lips. "You've talked to Hawke about children?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, we never... no. Besides, how often have you heard of a human and a dwarf successfully having a child together? It's not gonna happen, Bee."

Bianca bit the inside of her cheek, observing him. "Goodness, a baby between you two would be gorgeous."

Varric chuckled. "Any baby of mine would be gorgeous, who are you trying to fool?"

Bianca slapped his arm with a smirk as the bathroom door slowly opened. Hawke poked through, taking oddly small steps as she entered the bedroom. "Hey," she mumbled awkwardly.

Bianca slid onto the bed, nestled among the overflowing pile of red and black pillows, patting the onyx-colored duvet. "Come on up."

Hawke slipped onto the bed, laying her head in Bianca's lap as requested. Varric crawled up and sat between her feet, rubbing the body oil bottle between his hands. "Ready?" he asked softly.

Hawke made a soft noise of affirmation and Bianca began kneading her temples gently. Varric put a bit of oil in his hands and smoothed it over Hawke's feet, massaging, working out the kinks around her arches. He slowly moved up her legs, the robe parting as he did. Varric glanced up at Hawke who was lying very still, breathing deeply. Her face was more relaxed than he had ever seen.

"Marian," Bianca murmured, voice like velvet, "Vee's gonna move your robe so he can do more, okay?"

She grumbled an affirmative and Varric reached up to untie her sash, pushing the robe apart. His heart stuttered at the view, her fantastic body accented by the black and red lingerie perfectly. He admired each gentle curve, each scar decorating her torso, each stretch mark around her hips.

He glanced up to find Bianca watching him, smiling. She nodded to him, and he refocused, oiling his hands to move up to her thighs. It wasn't long before his hands made their way up to her apex, and Hawke's breathing had shifted from relaxed to aroused, her hips bumping up slightly, soft noises slipping from her throat.

Bianca reached out to take the bottle from him and began to rub oil along Hawke's arms and chest, fingers teasing along the straps of Hawke's bra. The woman arched as Bianca's fingers moved to tweak her hardened nipples through the thin red lace.

Hawke reached back suddenly, grabbing Bianca's waist and pulling at her. Bianca looked confused for a moment before she grinned, glancing up at Varric. She watched him as she slid forward, gently lowering her sex to Hawke's seeking mouth, tossing her negligee off and toward the floor.

Varric groaned, unable to help himself. He hadn't noticed that one of his hands had slipped under Hawke's underwear, a finger drawing lazy circles around her clit, but Hawke bucked against him and broke him out of his revelry. Varric swallowed down the sudden influx of saliva in his mouth as he listened to Hawke going down on Bianca and Bianca's breathy moans.

Varric slid Hawke's thong down her muscled legs, struggling out of his underwear. He moved further up between her legs and Hawke spread her legs, helpfully raising one so he could put it over his shoulder. He slid inside of her without difficulty in spite of her tight passage. He was slow at first, mimicking Hawke's unhurried strokes between Bianca's legs. But when Hawke began rocking her hips into him, her tongue sliding out of view and toward Bianca's entrance, Varric couldn't contain himself anymore. He shoved into her roughly, loving the muffled shout Hawke made against Bianca's slickness.

Bianca's eyes were hooded with desire when she looked at Varric, her lips parted in a disbelieving smile, pants spilling from her mouth. She tossed her head back, gripping one of her breasts, and Varric hips stuttered. She was so close to her release that he could taste it on the air. Bianca's long hair swayed around her like a living thing as she shouted wordlessly, arching, the only thing anchoring her to Hawke was the woman's iron-grip on Bianca's thighs.

Bianca slid off of Hawke on her shaky legs, gasping, leaning down to press open-mouthed, feverish kisses to the other woman. Varric's abdomen clenched as he watched them, grip tightening on Hawke's raised leg.

Hawke pulled away abruptly, meeting Varric's eyes. "On your back."

Varric blinked, momentarily confused, but did as asked. Hawke grabbed Bianca's waist, kissing her again before gently pushing her toward Varric. "Your throne," Hawke chuckled hotly.

Bianca grinned, biting her lower lip as she lowered herself onto Varric's painfully straining cock. Varric gripped her waist and helped her lower herself into place, loving that Bianca was still watching Hawke as she began to move on top of Varric, clutching her breasts.

"Hawke, get over here," Varric wheezed, reaching out for her. Hawke came willingly, her long legs folding around his jaw, her drenched sex a sweet and savory warmth against his mouth.

He could feel Bianca and Hawke moving toward one another. He could just barely make out the sounds of their groans and pants, their mouths wetly pressing together. His tongue slid over Hawke's burning clit, and she arched, gasping, breaking free of Bianca.

He thought he might have heard Bianca murmur something to Hawke; he definitely heard Hawke's gaspy response of, "Andraste's ass, Bianca!" though.

One of Bianca's fingers usurped Varric's tongue, sliding solid circles against Hawke's clit. Varric moved down to her passage, tonguing the thick ring of muscle. Hawke's legs tightened around his face, almost too hard, and Bianca's pace on his cock sped up.

Varric felt Hawke's release sweep over her before she even seemed to notice. Her opening tightened around his tongue, and her rocking lost its rhythm. She cried out, a long, keening noise, her wetness drenching Varric's chin. He lapped at her, groaning into her warmth.

Bianca was goading Hawke into a longer release, finger still circling her clit, whispering hotly to Hawke, driving the human insane with her words. Varric knew the play very well - she'd used it on him many times. He bucked up into her and Bianca gasped, tightening and shoving herself back onto him harder.

Hawke slid away from them, gasping, her eyes wide and far-off. She blinked absently for a moment before glancing at Bianca, smirking. She leaned over, and her tongue was suddenly at the base of Varric's cock, flicking against Bianca as she rode him. Bianca gasped and grabbed Hawke's head, hands in her hair, pulling her closer.

Varric knew he was going to come from the moment Bianca tossed her head back, gripping Hawke's locks. He grunted against it, trying to hold back, but then Bianca's eyes met his, hers full of love, and he lost all control. He came with a long grunt, one hand on Bianca's hip and the other on Hawke's back.

Varric had lost track of time as he came down, staring absently at Hawke's canopy. By the time he came back to himself, Hawke was beside him with Bianca curled around her; their heads pressed together. Hawke's eyes were closed, and she looked as though she had either fallen asleep or was close to it. Bianca was blinking sleepily but glanced up when she noticed Varric stirring. She smiled gently, kissing Hawke's sweat-sheened face before murmuring, "Grab the spare blanket in the trunk."

Varric stumbled to the indicated trunk at the foot of the bed and covered them gently, trying not to wake Hawke. He slid onto the bed behind the sleeping woman and curled up against her back, a hand reaching out to hold Bianca's.

"She's wonderful," Bianca hummed.

"She is."

"You love her, don't you?"

Varric swallowed, trying to remember his promise to Hawke. Shit couldn't get weird. But Hawke was asleep, and he'd never lied to Bianca. "I do."

Bianca yawned, settling back into the pillows. "She loves you, too. And I think you two need to stop being pussies about it. Man up and fight for her or you might lose her."

Varric withheld a relieved laugh and squeezed Bianca's hand. "I'm a lover, not a fighter, Bee."

"Well then be a lover," she returned. She was silent for a moment before snickering. "Pussy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned for Hawke and Bethany's duet is ["Windows," by Felix Snow and Icona Pop.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0mZhV2kUYyLq5zXmZ3gxnN)
> 
> Also, this story has already been written and finished, other than some editing. I'm going to be uploading the chapters daily next week. There could be a sequel if there is any interest, but I'm already working on a different project, so... who knows?
> 
> Anywhoo, shit gets real in the next chapter, and the fun stuff is over for a little bit. Sorry!


	12. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke has a good morning followed by a terrible day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Warnings: Canon character death.**
> 
>  
> 
> The inspiration song for this chapter is ["I Need a Doctor," by Eminem, Dr. Dre, and Skylar Grey.](https://open.spotify.com/track/70ATm56tH7OrQ1zurYssz0) There is a mention of Hawke's ringtone, which is based on the song ["Generous," by Olivia Holt.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0v6L0IaWRSVwMPsbqhxoZ7) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric had awoken in possibly the best way possible - to his lovers wrapped up in one another's arms, tongues vying for dominance. He laid quietly, watching them with a grin he was sure was bordering on lecherous. The two probably noticed he had woken up, had probably noticed he was watching them while stroking himself, but they pretended that he wasn't even there. The voyeur in him loved it, and they seemed to know it, bringing one another to multiple orgasms before glancing his way with matching mischevious smirks.

Then, after showering, Hawke made them breakfast. She was in the middle of frying eggs while Bianca dutifully watched the bacon when Hawke's phone began ringing, the shrill song making Varric seethe internally.

"Oh, I love this song!" Bianca chirped, her shapely hips swinging in time with the riff.

Varric glanced at her flashing display. "It's Bethany."

"Speakerphone!" Hawke called back, also shinnying to the song. When it connected, Hawke called out, "Bethy! Come by for breakfast! Overeasy eggs and-"

"Marian! Marian, Mom's -- oh, Maker."

Hawke's face fell as she turned from the stove, grabbing her phone from Varric. "What's going on, Bethany?" Her jovialness was gone, the mood dropping into panic quicker than Varric could follow.

"She... I don't know, _I don't know,"_ Bethany sobbed. "I came home and she, she -- Marian, please!"

"I'll be there in ten," Hawke replied, no-nonsense. She hung up the phone and slid it into her hoody's pocket, moving for the door and grabbing her keys.

"Marian, wait!" Bianca called, turning off the stove and sliding the half-cooked food into the trash. "Let me drive, you're-"

"Fine!" Hawke snapped impatiently, stepping into her canvas shoes and tossing her keys to Bianca. "We need to go, now."

Varric and Bianca had luckily gone upstairs to change before breakfast. They put on their shoes in a rush and followed Hawke out of the building, barely keeping up with her long-legged run.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

When they arrived, Hawke tossed herself out of the vehicle before Bianca had even brought it to a full stop. She charged toward the clinic at a run, only to have her waist grabbed roughly by a Guard, his firm face darkening. "No one in or out, this is a crime scene."

"My mother is in there, you asshole!" Hawke spat, struggling against his uniformed and padded arm. "Let me go! Let me -- BETHANY!"

Bethany was there in an instant, wearing the same clothing as she was in the previous night. Her mascara was smudged and running down her cheeks with thick tears. "That's my sister!"

The Guard released her, frowning. "Captain!" he called into the clinic. It only took moments for a woman with flame-bright hair to emerge, her emerald eyes kindly regarding Bethany and then Hawke. "Captain, this is another child of the deceased."

Hawke's throat sealed, and she wavered, a hand grabbing Bethany's arm. "Deceased?" she repeated. She didn't recognize the voice that came out of her mouth. "She's... Bethany, what the fuck happened?!"

Bethany's tears began anew, her shoulders shaking as she slumped into Hawke, burying her face into Hawke's hoodie. "I came home, and she was... Marian, she was attacked. I don't... I don't know, I just-" she stammered, choking on her breath.

The Guard Captain took Bethany from Hawke, letting the younger sister cry on her shoulder while she met Hawke's eyes. There was so much compassion in her voice, so much sorrow, when she murmured, "The attack occurred last night. As best as we can tell, it was a random killing. We assume it was a robbery - there are no narcotics left, and it seems your mother...." The Captain trailed off, glancing back at the clinic. "It seems your mother attempted to fight them off."

"That's impossible," Hawke breathed. Her hands were shaking. She balled them into fists and shoved them into her pockets. "She was catatonic. She hasn't spoken or moved on her own in over a year." She paused before narrowing her eyes. "Last night? When last night?"

The Captain glanced at her notepad, and Bethany pulled away, casting a fearful glance at Hawke. "Between 11 pm and two am this morning," the Captain replied softly.

"Marian, I am so sorry," Bethany sobbed.

Hawke was reeling. She stumbled, but hands caught her - Varric and Bianca. Hawke wasn't sure when they had joined the group, but she was suddenly very glad for their tender hands on her back. "How... you left the party at ten. Where were you?" Hawke whispered, eyes never leaving Bethany's. When her sister only sniffled, Hawke shouted, "Bethany Grace, where the fuck were you?!"

"Messere-" the Captain tried to interrupt, moving to stand between the sisters.

"Where was Anders?" Hawke continued, her hands trembling. "Where the fuck is he now? I will fucking kill that son of a bitch-"

The Captain grabbed her shoulders roughly, kind eyes hardening. "You need to calm down, messere, or we will be forced to put you in holding until you can compose yourself."

Hawke pulled away from the Captain, glowering. "I want to see her."

The Captain sighed, casting another glance over her shoulder. "I do not think that is wise. It is... gruesome."

Hawke walked around her, shoulder bumping Bethany as she did, and entered the clinic. The place was in disarray - the cots overturned, divider screens shredded, and entire trays of equipment upended. Anders' desk had been torn apart as if the perpetrator had a personal vendetta against poor craftsmanship.

And there in the middle of the floor was her mother.

Hawke didn't care that Guard swarmed the room, taking photos and analyzing the scene. They either had finished the examination of her mother or didn't care enough to perform one. The cause of death was rather obvious. Her neck had been sliced open to the bone, gaping like a slack mouth.

There was a loud noise in the room. It took Hawke a moment to realize it was her, dry heaving and gasping past the screams clogging her throat. There was a commotion from behind her, but she didn't turn to look. She didn't care. The killer could have been behind her, ready to slice her throat, and Hawke wouldn't have even noticed.

Leandra was gone. The woman Hawke and her siblings had pulled from their burning house, the woman who their father loved above all else... she was dead. She had been struck down in a makeshift clinic, alone, unable to say goodbye to the twins who she loved. Or to Hawke, the child that could never stop being a disappointment.

Hawke sobbed, the noise slipping past the overwhelming, raw weight in her throat. She hardly noticed when Carver was suddenly beside her, looking down at their mother noiselessly. Carver collected her from the floor, leading her back outside and into the fresher air of Darktown. Hawke gulped at it, trying to contain her anguish.

"-wasn't a robbery," Anders was saying from where he was speaking to the Captain, running a hand over his face. "We didn't have anything to steal; no narcotics, nothing like that."

The Captain looked skeptical, a slender red eyebrow-raising. "You run a clinic that has no narcotics?"

Anders swallowed. "It's a makeshift free clinic. We live off of donations. Most of the time we have nothing to offer those who are sick other than teas and domestic policies that I make at the time of their treatment."

The Captain didn't look convinced, but she made a note of his response in her notebook. "And you were not here last night or early this morning?"

Anders sighed, looking down at the ground. "No."

The Captain's brow rose again. "And where we you?"

Carver's jaw clenched. "He was with me. At the Hanged Man."

Hawke was still reeling over her mother to the point that she couldn't focus on Carver and Anders' secret night together. "Bethany."

Bethany swallowed, looking between the Captain and Hawke. Finally, she breathed, "I was with Fenris. He bought a place in Hightown, and we were... celebrating."

Hawke covered her face with her hands, trying to process it all. And then she began to laugh; harsh, barking laughter that cut enough to make Bethany flinch away from it. "This is fucking insane," Hawke muttered, hands falling from her face. "This is fucking insane," she snapped, waving her hand toward the clinic. "The one goddamn thing you assured me you could do, look after Mom, and you fuck it up to screw around with Fenris?"

"Hey," Carver snapped, grabbing Hawke's arm and tugging her away from Bethany. The Captain had moved between them again, eyes hard. "Back off of her," Carver continued hotly. "You weren't here, either. And who are you to judge her? You're fucking _how many_ people now?"

"Calm down, Junior," Varric spoke up, tone firm.

Carver snorted, shaking his head. "Fuck off, dwarf."

"That's enough," the Captain said, hand falling to her nightstick. "We all need to keep our voices down and our distance from one another so my men don't take your misplaced aggression as a threat. Understood?"

Hawke gritted her teeth. The Captain was right, but Hawke's blood was boiling. She yanked her hand away from Carver and stepped away from him. Varric and Bianca, her living shield, came to each side of her. Bianca's eyes were unyielding and trained on Carver, the most immediate threat.

The Captain sighed, hand falling away from her baton. "Does anyone else have anything that might be helpful?" No one said anything. She nodded and glanced at the Guard who had grabbed Hawke at the door. "Guardsman Donnic has some reports for you to fill out - all of you. Please be sure to include where you were from eight last night until this very moment. If you have anything else, anything at all, please come see me." She handed her cards out to them before nodding. "I'm sorry for your loss. Truly."

She left them in stunned silence, barely restrained anger turning to shock.

 

* * *

 

Hawke ran the smooth card across her thumb absently, not feeling the pain as it cut into her skin and caused small beads of blood to push up. Aveline Vallen, Guard Captain. For some reason, the last name Vallen made alarms rise in Hawke's mind.

"It was the Templars."

Hawke blinked, eyes turning to Carver. Bethany was worrying her lower lip, her finger wrapped around her steaming mug of tea. She hadn't drunk any of it, but the warmth on her hands had stopped her shaking. "What do you mean?" Bethany whispered, eyes scanning over the others in the coffeehouse.

Carver cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, glancing at the baristas. They were too far away to hear anything Carver was saying, especially over the aggressively-nondescript music playing through the speakers. "They were ransacking the place. They got a tip about Anders and went there looking for him."

"Or me," Bethany whispered, eyes widening.

Carver shook his head, swallowing. "They don't know about you. You're not even on their radar."

"How do you know this?" Hawke demanded, tossing the card down on the table. "And why the fuck didn't you tell the Captain?"

"Because I've joined up," Carver spat, losing his temper. "I'm a recruit, Marian. I am one of them."

Hawke's eyes widened, and Bethany let out a choked sob. "You _what?"_ Hawke hissed. "After everything we've seen, after Father - fuck, Carver, what about Bethany?"

"I'm doing this for Bethany!" he shouted. The baristas looked over anxiously, and he held up a hand in apology, teeth clenching. "I thought if I was inside I could keep her safe. Could keep Anders safe," he added.

Hawke ran a hand over her face, and Bethany whispered, "How could you let this happen? If you knew-"

"I didn't know anything until this morning," Carver returned hotly. "I had to wait for my shift to end before I could see for myself."

Hawke took a long pull from her coffee, wishing it was something much stronger. "Why'd they kill her?"

"I don't know," he murmured unconvincingly.

Bethany closed her eyes. _"Why,_ Carver?"

Carver took a while to respond. When he did, his voice choked. "She tried to stop them. She... she told them that they could never have 'them.'"

"Them?" Hawke repeated.

"Us," Bethany breathed, eyes swimming in tears. "She meant us, Marian."

Hawke stared into her coffee, saying nothing, watching the foam as it slowly faded into the darkness beneath.

 

* * *

 

Hawke hadn't cried after two days of sitting in her new apartment. An apartment her mother would have loved. There was light for plants; Leandra probably would have come over to Marian's daily to tend to a makeshift garden on her balcony. She would have loved Bianca's decorating prowess that oozed from every inch of the space. She would have laughed with Varric, delighted by his charm and quick wit. She would have tried to sew new clothing for Isabela, worried about her catching cold in the coming winter.

Hawke reached out for the bag of goodies Isabela had left outside of her door. Hawke hadn't been up to visitors, calling to them from the other side of the door to give her space, to text her if they really needed something. She'd turned away everyone; even Fenris had tried to visit, asking if she needed anything.

Hawke upended the sack and found an overwhelming amount of chocolate and snacks. A note from Isabela fell out, as well.

 _Puppy -_  
_I'm terrible at these things; you know that. But I wanted to let you know I am here for you. Whatever you need. I'm a good listener, just don't ask me to talk about my feelings, okay?_  
_There are some goodies in here - don't overeat or you'll be COMPLETELY out of your mind. As fun as it sounds, it most certainly is not._  
_I miss that gorgeous face._  
_-Bela_  
_PS - SERIOUSLY, HAWKE. DON'T EAT TOO MUCH AT ONCE._

Hawke snorted and set the letter aside. She glanced over the chocolates, cookies, and candies. Hawke was never one for sweets, but she hadn't eaten in the time since her mother had died. She unwrapped one of the cookies, confused at the vague label that warned that 'new users only eat a quarter of this cookie.'

Hawke thought about texting Isabela about it, but couldn't find the energy to pull herself off of the couch to grab her phone from the charger on the bar. So she did what any grief-stricken, suddenly orphaned woman would do. She ate the whole damn thing in four bites.

She turned on the television, staring at the menu options, unable to decide what to do. She could queue up a movie, or start one of a million shows she hadn't gotten around to watching in her year without entertainment options. She could put music on; turn it up loud enough to not hear anything, to shut out the thoughts running through her head. To shut out the image of her mother's throat torn apart by one of the Templars' signature daggers.

Hawke swallowed and opened her music app, selecting her workout playlist. She turned it up as loud as she could handle and pushed her coffee table out of the way, lowering herself to her stomach on the ground. She took a few breaths, the beats from her surround sound thrumming through her, and began counting her pushups.

_One. Two. Three. Mother is dead. Five. Six. Seven. You couldn't protect her. Nine. Ten. Eleven. She wanted to protect Bethany from the Templars. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. She tried to keep Carver, her baby, safe. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen._

_She probably didn't even think of you before it happened._

 

* * *

 

Hawke's head was a fog. Her hour-long workout had abruptly stopped when Hawke realized that her hands felt swollen and her eyes were blown wide, all of the colors in the room sharp enough to hurt. She thought she was tired at first and went to lay on the couch, but her brain was whirling with thoughts about colors and shapes.

She was also surprisingly hungry. Hawke, groaning, slid off of the couch and nearly tripped on her way to the kitchen. She checked her phone, which she had silenced two days ago, and found more missed calls and texts than she could immediately handle. Hawke moved to the fridge, glancing inside. Leftovers from Hawke's party were there, wrapped up by someone more adept at being an adult than Hawke was. Probably Bianca.

Hawke stared at all of the food for a moment, feeling her lower lip tremble. There was a container of Ferelden-style, spicy ram tortas, so similar to the ones Leandra used to make.

Hawke grabbed the container of tortas and a bottle of beer, grappling with her phone as she passed the bar and sank onto the couch. She slammed the bottle top against the corner of the coffee table, the lid flipping off and leaving a large gouge on her new wood table.

She didn't care. Nothing mattered, anyway.

She ate in silence, thinking about the tree they had in their backyard in Lothering. Leandra would collect the children for picnics all summer - the children would find themselves sitting under that tree and pretending that they were on a grand vacation.

Hawke drank her beer, thinking about the first payment she and her siblings had gotten from their first expedition. The children hadn't even thought about how to spend it. It was a simple idea and the only one the kids would consider; they took their parents to Denerim. They stayed in the grandest hotel; they ate at the best restaurants. They took in shows, they went to concerts, and they watched the fireworks over the palace every night. Leandra hadn't stopped smiling the entire trip.

Hawke's lip was trembling again. She grabbed her phone and opened her texts, ignoring her incoming messages and sending out one of her own.

 _Me 08:13 pm_  
Hey

 _Varric 08:13 pm_  
Hey  
_Varric 08:13 pm_  
Can I come over?

 _Me 08:15 pm_  
Please

Varric must have taken the stairs and not the elevator because not one minute had passed before her door clicked, the thumb-reader activated. Varric pushed through the door and came to her immediately, dragging her into his arms. Hawke breathed in his spicy aftershave and pressed her lips to his jaw, wheezing out. "I think Bela got me high."

He pulled back a bit, looking as though he was trying to determine if she was serious or not. He then looked at the items on her coffee table, still askew from her pushups. "Maker, Hawke, how much did you have?"

"Just a cookie," she grumbled, leaning back into the couch, fingers drumming across her thighs. She felt like she needed to do something. Maybe another workout routine. Maybe lunges across the apartment. "It tasted like rocks."

Varric found the wrapper and whistled. "It tasted like rocks because it has some in it. This is a dwarven meldea, Hawke. A whole cookie could probably break your brain within a few hours."

"I don't feel that bad," Hawke mumbled, reaching out for her beer. Her hands grasped at nothing, and she frowned. Had the coffee table always been so far away?

Varric grabbed the beer for her and brought it over. "How long ago did you eat it?"

She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. Everything was so sharp, so clear. "An hour ago?"

"Oh boy," he chuckled, rubbing a hand through his loose hair and looking mildly concerned. "Okay, well, the only rational - and, mind you, it's not rational at all - thing to do is text Bianca and let her know we're going down the nug hole."

Hawke snorted. "Tell Bianca to come join."

"She's working," he said simply, going back to the goodies to surveil them. He picked up a packet of chocolates and waved them toward Hawke. When she nodded, he opened the baggie and pulled a few squares out. Varric wandered back to the couch, sitting beside her, and bit into one of the bars. "Text Bee and let her know. Shit, text Rivaini, too. Just in case we get into some shit, it's better for people to know why."

Hawke sent a bulk message to Bianca, Bethany, and Isabela, taking much longer than usual. Her fingers felt so large, and her phone felt so very small. She finally finished the text, not even sure what she'd sent, and then tossed her phone onto the carpet. It slid across the floor to land somewhere under the entertainment center.

Varric sighed and got up to retrieve it, but Hawke stopped him, grabbing his arm and tugging uselessly. He was too dense for her to move. "I don't even want it; I don't want to see it. Come back."

He did as she asked, finishing his chocolate and pulling her into his arms. She slid to lay across the couch, her head in his lap. Varric stroked her hair absently before murmuring, "Want to watch something?"

"You pick," she mumbled, turning her mind off before the last word even left her lips.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

They had only made it partway through the terrible drama Varric had chosen when his finger began to tingle, and his tongue felt two sizes too large. "Hey," he murmured. "You still awake?"

Hawke sat up, much sprier than he expected. "Yes, and please tell me you hate this movie so we can stop it immediately. If she looks off forlornly into the distance one more time-"

Varric laughed, pulling her into a hug. She sounded like the Marian Hawke he had met in the Finacial District. The woman who sat across from the seaside restaurant table and held his gaze and grinned at him as if she knew they would eventually be together like they were now.

The thought made something in his throat clog, and he kissed her hair. "Message received, Peaches, the movie is toast." He leaned over to click it off, grappling for the remote absently, but Hawke grabbed his arm and pulled it back to her. Her gaze was heavy as it held his. "She wasn't comatose when the templar showed up."

Varric nodded faintly, choosing his words carefully. "That's what Carver said."

Hawke closed her eyes and swallowed. "She never really liked me, you know. Mom. She would have loved you and Bianca. Probably loved Isabela like someone loves a half-feral barn cat. But she never really grew attached to me. Even as a kid, we never..." she sighed and trailed off.

Varric didn't want to overstep his boundaries. He didn't want to make shit weird. Weirder. "I don't think that's true, Hawke. Your mother loved you."

"Sure, she loved me," Hawke murmured, kicking her feet absently through the air. "But she had something special with the twins. They were her babies, her miracles. The doctors told her she couldn't have more kids. Said it would kill her if she tried." Hawke shrugged. "What does that say about me? That she was willing to die for a second try at a kid who wouldn't disappoint her."

"Peaches," Varric sighed.

Hawke waved her hand as if none of it mattered, as if she didn't care. "That's fine. I was fine being the black sheep. Every family has one, right?" And then she hiccuped wetly, covering her face with her hands.

Varric pulled her against him and held her, rubbing her side and whispering, "Marian, this isn't... I don't believe she was aware of the attack."

Hawke's hands slipped from her dark-rimmed eyes, the tears swimming there but not falling. "Carver saw the reports. He wouldn't lie about this."

"He wouldn't," Varric agreed. "But the templar who did it might. Can you think of any reasons why they might claim she attacked them?"

Hawke's shoulders began to shake, eyes wide and staring off into a distance Varric couldn't see. "She was the message," Hawke whispered. "She was their message to Anders."

Varric expected the tears to start, but Hawke wiped her eyes, determination burning through her as she dropped to the floor and reached under the entertainment center for her phone. She knelt on the floor under the movie that was still playing. The lead female had stopped staring uselessly into the horizon and was now choosing to take action against the oppressive government.

Varric's phone pinged with a group message that included her family, Anders, and Fenris.

 _Peaches 11:21 pm_  
Meeting with the Guard Captain tomorrow. Carver, you in?

 _Worst Hawke 11:24 pm_  
I am available at noon.

 _Anders 11:25 pm_  
Me too

 _Sunshine 11:27 pm_  
F and I can be there 2

 _Peaches 11:28 pm_  
Good. We take her as much proof as we can. Carver, can you get a copy of that report.

 _Worst Hawke 11:30 pm_  
I doubt it. The Commander has it by now. Her office is pregnant  
_Worst Hawke 11:30 pm_  
Impregnable...

 _Peaches 11:31 pm_  
Bethy, see if the gas station down the road has cameras. The G's can request it if we give them something to go on.

 _Sunshine 11:32 pm_  
I'll go now

 _Peaches 11:34 pm_  
Tomorrow @ noon. Don't be late and make me look like an even bigger ass.

 _Broody 11:35 pm_  
Not possible.

Hawke snorted and put her phone on the coffee table before looking up at Varric. "I'm a fucking idiot."

"You're not," Varric murmured, putting his phone down, too.

Hawke rolled her eyes and looked at the floor. "I thought she came to; I believed that. How improbable is that? It makes more sense for her to have been a ghost of herself, slipping off her mortal coil silently and without a fight. Alone."

Varric's throat felt as if it might seal up at her words, at her tone. She sounded so lost.

"I haven't even cried yet," she whispered.

Varric took her hand, helping her up, and then led her to her bed. He got her undressed and under the sheets before turning the lights off through the apartment. He slid out of his clothes and got into bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her face against his chest. She was cold to the touch. She was small somehow, slender. She felt like glass. Her shoulders were shuddering with withheld tears.

"Let it out," he whispered against her hair.

"Shit'll get weird," she whispered, voice hitching.

"Nah," he murmured, tightening his hold. "We're perfect, Peaches."

Her shoulders jolted under his hands and the sobs that tore themselves from her were animalistic. Varric held her close, quietly running a hand through her hair until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Bianca came in a few hours later, kissing their cheeks and offering Varric a sad smile. "How is she?"

"Not great," he murmured. "Staying?"

She shook her head. "She needs you right now. Maybe the three of us can have dinner tomorrow after my meeting?"

Varric nodded. "Sounds good."

Bianca kissed them both again before murmuring, "Get some sleep, Vee." And then she was gone, leaving them wrapped in silence and each other.


	13. Beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke struggles with managing her grief and her feelings for Varric. Carver severs his ties to Hawke. Hawke and Varric take a plunge that could make things more tumultuous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything! 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings: Grief. Smut.**
> 
> This chapter's title song goes to ["Beg," by Jack & Jack.](https://open.spotify.com/track/1fUTkSn2LxAN7nc1gbau7X) Please enjoy!

* * *

  

**Varric Tethras**

Varric's eyes flashed open, his heart racing. He sat up quickly, eyes falling on Hawke; her head was on his lap, her mouth aggressively sucking his cock into her mouth. He groaned, unable to help it, but her sucking didn't falter, and she didn't giggle with delight as she usually did. She was single-minded in her determination, her mouth bordering on too harsh. "Hawke," he wheezed, voice thick with sleep. "Hawke, hold on-"

Hawke pulled away, his cock thick and bobbing as it slid from her mouth. Varric stifled another moan, reaching to run a hand through her tangled hair, drawing her face upward to look at him. Her cheeks were tear-stained and damp, and Varric's heart broke all over again. "Hawke, this isn't going to help."

She sat up and shoved him back down, straddling his waist, her muscled thighs tensed as she held her weight off of him. "Don't tell me what will make me feel better, Tethras."

There was a hardness to her voice that he was unused to; it had entered her tone the moment Leandra died. "Hawke-" he tried. He wanted to tell her about losing his own mother, the only Tethras he had ever actually liked. He wanted to tell her that things got better, that the pain would subside.

Hawke didn't want to hear it. She put a finger to his lips, eyes darkening. "Don't make me beg."

Varric swallowed. His cock twitched, still hard, still yearning for the heat between her legs that was painfully close yet so far. Varric grabbed her waist and moved her down so that she pressed against his erection. He nodded at her, and she slid onto him with a quick, hard motion.

Hawke rode him with a fierce abandon that looked more painful than pleasurable. He winced each time her lip trembled, but he dutifully held her hips and caressed her abdomen, cupping her breasts as he watched her move. He began to think that she might break her pelvis on his with the force of her thrusts, but just as his concern was mounting, she stilled, letting out a shattered sob. Her body began to tremble, and she slumped, her shoulders suddenly jelly.

Varric pulled her down against him. He was glad her added height was in her legs so that he could draw her chin to him, kissing her lips gently.

"Don't," she mumbled, voice thick. "Don't treat me like glass. I'm not fragile."

"I know," Varric whispered, kissing her again. His tongue leisurely slid between her lips, caressing hers, ignoring her urgency and attempts to hurry him.

"Varric," she whined against his mouth, her shoulders quivering under his hands. "I need you to be rough with me."

"Not right now, Peaches," he returned. "It won't help."

She sat up abruptly, a fist smacking his chest and knocking the wind from him momentarily. She crouched above him, eyes hard, looking for the life of her like a fierce warrior. Her passage tightened around his flagging cock, and he gasped, fingertips tightening where they had fallen to her hips. She began to rock against his again, pressing in, and tossed her head back. "I guess I have to do it myself if you're not willing to give me what I want."

The words did the trick. Hawke knew how to wind him up. Varric tightened his hands on her and rolled her off of him. She sprawled across the bed, a smirk sliding over her lips. Varric gritted his teeth, annoyed that she was so good at controlling him. He grabbed her hip and rolled her onto her belly, slapping her thighs apart roughly as he slid between them.

Hawke was already vibrating with anticipation, her hips rolling, her ass waggling like a perfect peach. He wondered if she had ever suspected where her nickname had originated. Varric slapped her cheek roughly, and she jolted, a guttural groan falling from her lips. A few strokes of his hand across his cock made it flare to life, and he shoved into her without pretense, blunt nails digging into her hips.

Hawke was panting, back bowing as he forced himself to go faster, to mark her perfect ass with red welts from his hands. She goaded him, urging him on even though she hadn't wanted to beg. And who would he be if he didn't comply?

She came again after a particularly biting scratch he left along her side, right over her snarling dragon tattoo. She arched, pressing herself back into him as she bucked and wailed and Varric, grunting, finally released inside of her.

He felt sick. Varric was all for being rough in the bedroom, taking control and making his women grovel. But not when they were already raw with grief. Not when they were so obviously in pain and needing someone to take care of them.

 _I'm not glass,_ she'd said. And he knew she wasn't. But she was certainly fragile at the moment, wilting right in front of him. And he didn't know how to fix it; if it even _could_ be fixed with anything more than time.

Varric pulled himself from her, and she collapsed into a heap on the bed, breathing raggedly but otherwise silent. He didn't know if he should hold her, say something, or give her a moment to her thoughts. For once in his life, he didn't have words to make everything okay.

"I need a shower." She didn't even look at him when she said it; she instead slid off of the bed and padded toward the bathroom.

Varric listened to the shower turn on. He sat on the bed for a few minutes before shaking his head. Leaving it like that would make things uncomfortable, would make their relationship - whatever relationship that was - tumultuous. So Varric got off of the bed and knocked on the shower door. "How about you let me clean you up, Peaches? The least I can do after such a nice wakeup."

She was silent for so long that he began to worry she had slipped and dashed her head on the stone tiles. Just as Varric was about to call out to her again, she replied, "Sure."

He entered the shower without waiting for her to change her mind. She was leaning against the back wall, dappled with backsplash but otherwise dry. Varric took her hands and led her into the water a little more, caressing over her body softly, sliding between her legs and easing their fluids from her slick skin.

Varric took his time between her legs, his pretense of cleaning her up becoming more apparent as a ruse. Hawke's breath was coming faster, her fists clenching. "Varric," she whispered, voice tremoring.

"Yes, love?" His heart stammered at the word, but he pretended everything was normal.

Hawke didn't comment on it, but he felt her tense. She relaxed, though, and sighed. "I don't know what to do."

"One day at a time," he whispered, gently moving her against the wall. "Lean on us. We're all here for you."

Hawke swallowed and leaned her head back on the tile. "I know."

"I'm here for you, Marian," he added, pressing his face into her sternum, mumbling against her skin. "You know that, right?"

One of her hands skimmed through his unbound hair, and she let out a choked laugh. "You and me against the world."

"Always," he confirmed, kissing her skin. He slowly moved down her body until he was on his knees, kissing the short cropped curls between her legs. "Let me take care of you sometimes."

She said nothing, but one of her legs slipped over his shoulder, and his tongue slid over her clit. She made no noise as he moved across her silken skin, but he thought her shudders might have been tears.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Bianca and Isabela decided that Hawke needed a girl's day and arrived at her door just as Varric was making her lunch.

"Soup?" Isabela said incredulously, wrinkling her nose at Varric's choice.

"And a sandwich," he defended, waving toward where Hawke was picking apart a beautifully crafted chicken melt.

"Well, this won't do," Bianca tutted. "Sweet gesture, Vee, but we're taking her out to lunch."

"I'm really not hungry," Hawke spoke up, already awkward from the women's intense positivity. "I think I just want to eat another cookie and melt into a puddle while mindlessly scrolling through dating apps."

"Dating apps?" Isabela repeated. The woman evidently had no cap on her disbelief. "Puppy, we're much more fun than those dating sites. And you can have a cookie for our exploits, anyway. Andraste's flaming knickers, have all of the cookies."

"Don't have all of them," Bianca and Varric said quickly.

Hawke cast a suffering look toward Varric, but it was obvious he wasn't going to help her. He was probably the one who set them up to drag her out of the house. She sighed and stood, wandering toward the door. "Let's go."

"Oh, Puppy," Isabela groaned.

Bianca took Hawke's arm and led her to the bedroom. "Maybe something that isn't pajamas and riddled with holes?"

"I like these pajamas," Hawke replied without heat.

"I know, sweetheart, and we love you in spite of it."

 

* * *

 

The water gushed around her feet in the tiny tub. Hawke wasn't sure what it was about the _healing herb_ soak that reminded her of Ferelden. Maybe it was the earthiness of it, the smell of wet dirt and new growth. It reminded her of cavern spelunking that she and her siblings had done before they got into thaig exploring. It reminded her of patching up Bethany's scraped knees after the descents, watching as her 13-year-old face held back tears and forced a smile.

 _I want to keep going,_ she'd say, uncowed by the injury and her torn jeans. _There might be a rock Mother would like!_

There was always a rock their mother would enjoy. Bethany would delight in finding them, brandishing the glittering gems or smooth stones in the flashlight beam. Their mother was always thrilled, hugging Bethany close each time they came home and she presented it to their mother. Leandra would beam and add it to the collection on the kitchen windowsill.

Hawke swallowed thickly, watching the foot bath, watching how it all frothed like a turbid sea. Like the sea that they had crossed to leave Lothering behind. They'd left the rocks, of course; it would have been impossible to collect them all. But maybe if Hawke had managed to grab one - the one that cast rainbows on the ceiling in sunlight - then maybe Leandra would have had something good to hold.

The tears came in a rush, and Hawke doubled over, holding her aching stomach. Everything within her felt so empty, so cold.

She felt a hand on her arm. Bianca was in the chair next to her; her footbath was gone, and a woman was painting her toes a vibrant orange. "Oh, babe," she whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Hawke's bicep. "Honey-"

Hawke waved her off, choking back the tears, and whispered, "It's fine. I'm fine. I just... I feel like I should have been able to stop it from happening."

Isabela, on the other side of her, said, "Hawke, that's utter shit, and you know it." Hawke blinked, surprised, and Isabela took that as permission to continue. "You are not responsible for this; you aren't responsible for having to flee the Blight, you aren't responsible for your father's death or your mother's would-be coma. You aren't responsible, Puppy. You _never_ were. And what happened is a tragedy and you know we want nothing more than to help you move past it. But it wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" she asked softly.

"That's loss, Marian," Bianca replied gently.

One of the elven workers gingerly approached, asking, "Would you like to choose your color now?"

Hawke's mind was flashing with shades, with thoughts about her mother's green garden or her blue eyes, her pink smile and the pale gray of her hair.

"Black," Hawke replied. "The darkest you have."

The woman bobbed and went to obtain the paint, leaving Hawke to collect herself.

 

* * *

 

The day ended with a dinner that Hawke barely touched and a trip to Isabela's flat. The trio sat on Isabela's couch, Hawke downing glasses of wine as if getting paid to do so. Isabela and Bianca, to their credit, didn't judge; they merely offered her sympathetic smiles and poured more red into her glass.

Before Hawke could drink herself to death, Isabela convinced her to take a bath. Hawke tripped into the lavatory and started the water, sinking into the tub. She was too tired to pour any of the scented bottles into it, so she sat in the scalding water, staring blankly at the wall. She had expected to feel something, anything, when she was alone. To cry, to yell. Something. But she felt numb.

She wasn't sure how long she had spent wrapped up in her own head, staring at the pale blue wall, at the canvas of an anchor. What she knew was that the water had turned to ice and her skin was covered in thick goose-pimples, her nipples so hard that they hurt. She pulled the plug and watched the small whirlpool as the water rushed to leave her.

She climbed out of the tub, shivering, and stumbled naked into the living room. Isabela glanced up, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Puppy, what -- oh, Maker, come on, in bed."

Isabela's arms were warm and firm around her as the woman led her into the bedroom. She got Hawke into bed before stripping and crawling under the covers beside her.

"You're so warm."

"No, you're just freezing," Isabela replied, running her hand over Hawke's arm.

Hawke pressed her face into Isabela's collarbone. Her lips touched the wing of the bloodied albatross, and Hawke wondered, not for the first time, why the bird had to get shot, why the bird had to die.

What did the bird do to deserve any of it?

 

* * *

 

Hawke managed to get out of the house a few days later, but it was a bittersweet trip to Tethras, Inc.

"You're sure about this?" Varric asked, looking at them over the rim of his small reading glasses.

Hawke glanced over at Carver. He looked different. There was something in his eyes, something hard. Something dark. Carver turned his attention to Varric. "I'm sure."

Varric sighed and handed Carver a stack of papers. "This separates you from all future ventures Marian Hawke takes. You are waiving all claims to our company, and to Hawke. You cannot use her name-"

"Varric," Hawke winced, shaking her head. "This fine print explanation isn't necessary."

"She's right," Carver replied simply, grabbing a pen. "Just tell me where to sign."

Varric ran a hand over his brow. "It's all flagged in green."

Carver flipped from page to page, scrawling his name in sharp curves and jagged strokes. When he finished, he pushed the stack toward Hawke. "The funeral is tomorrow," he said finally, getting to his feet. "No reception."

Hawke swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'll be there."

Carver snorted and left the office, letting the door slam behind him.

When Hawke looked up, Varric was clenching his jaw, staring at the door with hatred in his eyes. "Varric," she said, proud that her voice was calm and flippant. "It's fine." She busied herself with signing the severance contract before moving on to her new contract.

A contract for co-ownership of Tethras, Inc.

"What the fuck are we doing, Varric?" she asked. She felt like her tongue was too large for her mouth. She felt like she was going to vomit. "This isn't right. This makes no sense."

"I know," Varric sighed.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Shit's getting weird."

Varric shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "We were kidding ourselves when we said this wouldn't get weird." He nodded down at the contract. "You don't have to sign if you don't want. I can shred your severance, things can go back to normal."

Hawke looked down at the papers. Co-owner. Neverending funding for all of the expeditions she wanted. Working beside her best friend. It was perfect until she remembered she was sleeping with her best friend and trying not to fall in love with him. _Failing_ at not falling in love with him. "We shouldn't do this." She tried to ignore the sudden panic in her voice.

Varric met her gaze; his eyes were so kind and so patient. "It's your call, Peaches."

 _Peaches._ She swallowed, blinking back her terror.

Hawke picked up the blue pen and began to sign.

 

* * *

 

Bianca had texted Hawke that afternoon to remind her that she was invited to an 'intimate gathering' at Bianca's apartment. Hawke instantly felt terrible; she'd forgotten. She hadn't seen Bianca much, and the dwarf would be leaving town the following morning, but Hawke had still forgotten. She was possibly the worst friend and somewhat-lover to ever exist.

Hawke made it to Bianca's apartment an hour late in spite of living directly underneath her. It had taken Hawke an hour of scrolling through memes on her phone to convince herself to shower. Dressing took another hour. Should she try to be enticing - a short dress and lingerie beneath? Should she dress like she was fine - a regular sweater dress and leggings? Or should she continue wearing the same pair of pajamas she'd been in for most of the week?

Hawke decided on acting fine. She didn't bother with a bra, though. Luckily, that could just as easily be misconstrued as her trying to be enticing as her being lazy and depressed.

She didn't bother with shoes, which she understood, deep down, was disgusting. She figured the hallway carpet was infinitely cleaner than hers since she hadn't vacuumed it since she moved in, though. After the party and her days as a shut-in, she was reasonably sure she'd dropped more food on the floor than she'd put in her mouth.

 _Maybe I should get a dog,_ she thought absently, pressing her thumb to Bianca's reader and slipping into the apartment.

Bianca and Isabela were on the couch, _oohing_ and _ahhing_ at the television. Hawke furrowed her brow. It sounded like porn. Had Bianca mentioned they were going to be watching porn? Hawke was sure she hadn't, but she was also sure that it would be something in which Bianca and Isabela would gladly participate.

Varric came out of the kitchen and noticed her, his face lighting up. "About time. How are you always late to everything?"

"Did you move to Sundermount when we weren't looking?" Isabela added, winking.

Hawke snorted and sauntered into the sitting room, collapsing on an accent chair. "I'll have you know that it takes time to make this face beautiful." She fluttered her naked eyelashes and flourished her hand next to her makeup-less face.

"You're effortless," Bianca argued kindly. Hawke knew she had dark rings under her eyes and her face was blotchy with a stress-breakout. She knew she wasn't effortless.

"You are," Isabela confirmed, suddenly too sweet to be truthful.

As if to add his two coppers, Varric kissed her cheek as he passed, handing her a beer bottle and taking his own to his seat beside Bianca. "Get over here," Varric bade.

Hawke smiled a bit and moved over to the couch, worming her slender body against Varric's other side. Once settled, she glanced up at the television finally and found that it was not porn, as she had first assumed, but that it was a movie that had transitioned from a sex-scene to a killing-zombies-scene. Hawke took a long swig from her beer and raised a brow. "Do I need to have seen anything to get what this is about?"

"No," Bianca and Isabela said.

Varric, on the other hand, cast her a sideways smirk and murmured, "See, Hawke, this movie is a deeply psychological look at the effects of lawlessness on the citizens of a once-great nation and torn asunder by the effects of war."

"This is nowhere close to psychological. There wasn't a war, either," Bianca interrupted.

"There's definitely a war going on," Varric insisted, lips twitching upward.

"There was literally never a war in this movie. Ever," Bianca added for emphasis.

"Wait, I'm confused. Wasn't there a chemical attack?" Isabela interjected from the other side of the couch. Her arm snaked over the back and could just barely flick Varric's ear.

Bianca sighed, putting her popcorn bowl on the coffee table and leaning forward as if she was about to explain quantum physics. "Okay. There was a chemical attack ten years ago. It wasn't a war. The chemical attack fucked everything."

"Why isn't everyone infected?" Isabela asked. Her tone almost cracked, and she almost laughed, giving the game away. She bit it back, though, eyes widening in feigned innocent.

Bianca sighed. "Only _some_ people got infected because of the annual flu vaccine it got transmitted in."

"Some people don't get a flu shot?" Hawke asked, sipping her beer. Varric's lips twitched violently. Hawke thought he might be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting.

Bianca ran a hand over her face. "Okay, yes. Some people don't-" she paused, eyes narrowing at Varric. "Why are you smiling like -- oh for fuck's sake, you're messing with me. Andraste's ass, you're _all_ messing with me!"

Isabela snorted and hid her face into the bend of her arm. Hawke and Varric smirked at one another and then Hawke remembered that she was now partners in a company with her best friend. She swallowed her mouthful of beer before grinning, unable to help herself. "Hey, Varric."

"Yes, Peaches?"

She smirked. "We're business partners."

Isabela and Bianca laughed and gave a half-sarcastic round of applause while Varric's smile softened, leaning over to kiss her cheek again. "That we are, Peaches."


	14. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the siblings attend their mother's funeral, Bethany reveals her long-term plans, and Hawke admits her feelings to Varric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> **Chapter Notes/Warnings: brief smut and fluff.**
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song is thanks to ["Closer," by Majik.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3zEtGSTE3uEzxbAHnsIGNE) Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

The funeral was a small affair. Hawke had almost decided not to go, but Varric had driven to her apartment and helped her get dressed and into his car. "I don't want to admit she's gone," Hawke had said on the car ride, her tone flat and her face dry. She sounded like the shock had come back in full-force, shutting her down from the inside.

"I know, Peaches," he murmured.

Varric held her hand through the walk to to the gravesite behind the church. Bethany walked with them but kept her head down and her distance from Carver - Carver, who was wearing his Templar regalia. Varric had to swallow down his bile at the sight of the pressed and pristine uniform.

The graveside service was quick and quiet. The Hawke children stood around the lip of the hole in the ground, watching the coffin lower. Varric concentrated on all of their faces. Bethany's was the strongest; she had accepted it already. Hawke was in the throughs of depression, her expression blank and unmoving. Carver, always the slowest to process emotions, looked angry enough to hit something.

Angry enough to hit _him,_ Varric realized shortly after the casket lowered and everyone was winding their way to the parking lot. "Hey!" Carver shouted, running to catch up with them. His grey and red uniform made Hawke wince every time she saw it. "Hey!"

Hawke turned sharply and broke free of Varric's tight hold on her hand. "What?" she snapped.

"You bring him here?" Carver nearly shouted, waving a hand toward Varric. "She didn't even know him! You just felt like traipsing one of your fuck buddies around her funeral?"

"Junior-"

And then Carver swung. It might have been the tears in his eyes, but something had made him misjudge the hit. Varric stepped back, grabbing Hawke's arm and pulling her along with him. Carver tumbled to the ground, glaring up at them. There was so much hate in his eyes.

"What the fuck?" Varric demanded.

"This is your fault," he muttered darkly, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what the fuck you did to her, but you ruined everything."

"Maker, Carver, are you drunk?" Bethany breathed as she rushed over to join Hawke and Varric. "Are you two-"

"We're fine," Hawke interrupted. To Carver, she pressed, "Why would Varric be at fault for anything here?"

"We could have gotten out," Carver grunted, getting to his feet. His hands clenched tightly, and Varric stepped in front of Hawke and Bethany. He doubted Carver would try to hurt his sisters, but Varric wasn't going to test the theory. "We had the money. So much more money than we needed. And then you insisted we not run off with it. You insisted we hold up our end of the bargain. You cared more about your promise to this goddamn dwarf than the one you made to Dad."

Hawke balked. She looked physically hurt by the words. "I do _everything_ for the good of this family!" she wheezed, disbelieving. "I got us here. I found Gamlen. I found all of the financiers. Maker, Carver, I went hungry more nights than not so I didn't take anything from you or Bethany."

Carver rolled his eyes and tried to mask the fact that tears were gliding down his cheeks. "What about when we had the chance to take 20 sovereigns and get the fuck out of Kirkwall? We could have taken Bethany and Mother, and we could have left. Why didn't you take that offer, Marian?"

Bethany's eyes widened, and she looked at Hawke as if she had kicked her. Even so, her words were for Carver when she said, "Marian has only looked out for me, Carver. She had only looked out for both of us our entire lives."

"Well, she wasn't looking after us when we were in those thaigs."

Bethany put a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "Is it so bad that she found something to live for besides us, Brother? Will you really begrudge her that?"

"Don't you?" he demanded.

Bethany's smile was sad. "I'm glad she's found something else. And I'm glad you have. And I have, too."

"Bethany?" Hawke asked, confusion coloring her tone.

Bethany swallowed and straightened her back, standing taller. "Carver, this is the last time we might see one another."

Carver's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Bethany, suddenly the strongest of the siblings, stood tall and sure, her expression one of peace. "I will tell you this because you are still my brother, and I still trust that you wouldn't hurt me."

"I would never -- Bethany, I joined the Templar Order to try to protect you," he hissed.

She blinked at him before turning her eyes to Hawke. "I've joined the Resistance."

"Bethany-" Hawke breathed.

"Are you stupid?" Carver snapped, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. "You jointed... fuck, Bethany, this is stupid. This is so stupid. You can't-" he broke off and flung his hands in the air. He looked as if he might walk away from the group but he only shoved his boot against the grass, tearing some up, his fists balling.

Varric moved in front of the women again, and Carver glowered at him. "If I wanted to hurt them, little man, I would be able to with or without you standing there." His eyes rose to Bethany's. "I will never do anything to hurt you. I won't turn you in, I won't ask where you're hiding, and I won't try to find you."

Bethany smiled sadly. "Good. Because if you do, I won't be the only person you love that gets caught."

His eyes narrowed and then widened, everything clicking into place. "Anders."

Bethany hugged Hawke, whispering, "I love you. I'll try to come see you sometimes."

"Bethy-"

"You can't change my mind."

Hawke swallowed and wrapped her sister in her arms. "Mom and Dad would be so proud of you," she murmured into the Crystal Grace scent of Bethany's hair.

Bethany kissed her cheek, and then Varric's, before waving a faint goodbye. She slipped out to the parking lot and entered a nondescript black car, the dark tint of the windows obscuring her immediately. Carver said nothing else. He turned on his heel and left, not casting a backward glance to Bethany's car or Hawke.

"I didn't think I could lose anyone else in the two hours I left the house," Hawke tried to joke, lowering her sunglasses to cover her pained expression.

 

* * *

 

Varric hadn't seen Hawke in five days - at Hawke's insistence; certainly not because it was what Varric wanted.

She texted him often, just to let him know she was okay, and occasionally sent photos. They were usually equally humorous and depressing, the perfect balancing-act the eldest Hawke had adopted to ignore her feelings.

One such photo was a plate of food, balanced precariously on bare thighs, consisting of three full-sized candy bars, a handful of corn chips, and what looked to be three dry pasta noodles. There were also four empty beer bottles in the background, another fresh one in her other hand.   _Look at this culinary prowess,_ the following text proclaimed. _I should give up this cave diving thing and look into getting a restaurant._

_Me 01:24 am_  
Peaches, you need to eat real food.  
 _Me 01:24 am_  
Let me take you out for dinner.  
 _Me 01:25 am_  
Scratch that, breakfast.  
 _Me 01:54 am_  
Fine, pie?

_Peaches 02:01 am_  
Aren't you busy working on that presentation for the car lot guy? The cute one with eyes to die for.

_Me 02:02 am_  
I will gracefully pretend my feelings aren't hurt. And yes, still working on that. I could use a break though.  
 _Me 02:04 am_  
C'mon, don't leave me drowning over here.  
 _Me 02:05 am_  
I know you're reading these as I write them.   
_Me 02:07 am_  
Okay, well, I am going down to the Sattelite for some pie. You should come down, or I might tell Sebastian you're interested.  
 _Me 02:09 am_  
I hear he's quite persistent and enjoys the Maker, Andraste, poetry, and pretending he didn't get thrown in jail for snorting degane dust out of a working girl's navel four years back.

_Peaches 02:10 am_  
Ooh, corruptible. Sounds fun.  
 _Peaches 02:11 am_  
Not really. Please don't tell him I'm interested. I'm getting dressed, I'll be there.  
 _Peaches 02:12 am_  
This better prove how much I love you.  
 _Peaches 02:12 am_  
shit  
 _Peaches 02:12 am_  
Don't read into that.

Varric smiled, unable to help it, and sent a simple _wouldn't dream of it_ back before setting his paperwork aside and pushing away from his desk.

The Sattelite Diner was in a sweet spot between Lowtown and Hightown. Varric had planned on picking Hawke up on his drive there, but when he arrived at the apartment complex, her vehicle was already gone. He was somewhat perplexed as to how she managed to get out of her apartment in less in ten minutes.  _She's probably wearing her pajamas,_ he realized with a mix between a grimace and a smile.

When he got to the diner, Hawke's SUV was the only other vehicle in the lot aside from two cars in the back. Varric parked beside Hawke and slid out of the car, wandering into the harsh lighting of the restaurant. Hawke was sitting at a booth in the back corner of the diner, her hair a bedraggled mess. Varric almost stumbled when he made it closer, though. She had more makeup on than he'd ever seen, a blush of dark crimson on her lips and kohl around her eyes. She was wearing a low-cut sweater and what appeared to be leggings with knee-high leather boots. Her nails were painted black and flawless in spite of how she was picking at her cuticles.

She glanced up at him and smiled. There wasn't the recent hesitation in it, either; she looked genuinely pleased to see him. "Hey," she said, voice like a warm breeze. Varric had somehow forgotten how incredible her voice was in the days they had been apart.

Varric leaned over to kiss her cheek, but she moved at the last moment, her mouth pressing into his. He hadn't expected it; Hawke had always been strangely chaste with him in public. He had assumed it was because of Bianca, or their professional relationship, but none of it seemed to bother her at that moment. Varric, testing the waters, deepened the kiss, a hand running through her hair, drawing her closer. Hawke melted into him, a soft mewl curling deep in her throat.

"Now that your friend is here, are you all ready to order? Maybe something instead of tongue?"

Varric leisurely pulled back to offer the waiter, a blonde elf, a grin. "Do you still have that caneberry pie?"

"We do. And milk, if you'd believe it." The elf grinned cheekily, making it known he was only teasing, and then winked at Hawke. "Are you sure you didn't want anything other than coffee? I am sure I can find something special just for you."

Hawke's brows raised so high that they almost disappeared behind her bangs. "Wow, um. I guess I'll have a piece of the pie, too?"

The elf pursed his grin, looking as if he was trying not to laugh, and then nodded to both of them. "I'll be right back."

Varric was about to move to the other side of the booth, but Hawke grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back. "Sit with me," she said, looked downright cheerful. "Protect me from that elf who had been attempting to fuck me for the past five minutes."

Varric chuckled and slid into the booth, turning slightly to face her. She looked thinner, gaunt almost, but her color was better. He wasn't sure how much was the makeup covering her dark circles, but he would take what he could get. If she was feeling well enough to put on makeup and real clothing, that was progress. "How's the apartment?"

She raised a brow, probably expecting him to ask how she was doing. "It's good. I spent all yesterday cleaning it, in fact. The floor is spotless, the tub is mildew-less, and I am pretty sure my bedroom is more immaculate than when Bee put it together."

Varric grinned and reached out to brush a stray fleck of hair from her eyes. "You seem to be feeling stronger."

"Not stronger, really. I just feel like I have more purpose."

"Oh?"

Hawke glanced down at the table. "Yeah. About that...."

She was interrupted by the elf returning with their plates of pie, refilling Hawke's coffee and giving Varric a mug, as well. "Anything else I can get you two?" he breathed, looking as though he was planning how best to eat them in the most sexual way he could.

"Nothing, thanks," Hawke replied quickly, already unraveling the napkin from her fork and doing all that she could to ignore the elf.

"Thanks," Varric echoed, and the elf grinned toothily before heading back into the kitchen. "Damn, he was almost creepy enough for me to think he'd try to abduct and rape you if I didn't show up."

Hawke frowned at that. "You think he could take me?"

"Sweetheart, I said _try._ You fought off a demon; no mortal alive can take you out."

She grinned and cut into her pie, cheeks slightly flushed. "Well, if he tries anything on you, I'll fight him off."

"You'd protect my honor?" he teased.

"Someone has to, you knave," she returned, shoving a bit of pie into her smirking mouth.

"What were you going to say earlier?" Varric changed the subject in spite of loving the return of excited-Hawke. "Something about you having a purpose?"

She swallowed the piece of the pie, looking suddenly awkward. "So... Fenris sent me a text a few hours ago. He knows a guy who knows a guy who says the Qunari are looking for someone who can get into a thaig."

"Our thaig?" he probed, forgetting about the pie. "Holy shit, the Qunari want to hire you?"

"Hold on," she laughed. "So, it's not our thaig, but Fenris couldn't get too much more information. There's a shitton of money in it, though. Fenris was under the impression that it was one of those  _name your price_ arrangements."

Varric whistled, leaning back in the booth. "Damn, Hawke. Do you have a meeting?"

"I do," she sighed, forking another piece of pie into her mouth. "Tomorrow night at the docks. They evidently have a ship out there, and they're planning on leaving at the end of the week, with or without us. I figured you might want to come along as my money man. You could maybe get us a fair deal. I've never been very good at strong-arming."

"I don't strong-arm, Hawke, I charm," Varric chided. "And Qunari deal with strong-arming better than charm." He sighed. "Of course I'm going with you. Broody's gonna be there?"

"Yep. He's going to let Isabela know, too," she replied between bites of pie.

"Have you heard from Bethany or Carver?" he asked, regretting the words as they left him.

She didn't seem fazed; Varric didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. "Nothing from Carver, of course. Anders let me know that Bethy's safe and out of reach. He's changing phones every few days, so it's going to be nearly impossible to reach them without him sending word first."

"I'm sorry, Peaches," Varric murmured.

Hawke shrugged, swallowing. "Bethany was right. They chose their lives. They have nothing holding them back now, and if this is what they want to do..." she shrugged. "Then this is what they want to do."

Hawke finished her pie before glancing at Varric's plate. "Are you-"

He slid the pie over, more than happy to watch her shovel the sugary treat between her smiling lips.

 

* * *

 

Varric had repeated that he needed to get back to the office as they stood beside their cars, Hawke shivering and Varric trying not to cover her with kisses. Or give into her propositions of a sleepover.

"You can work from my place," Hawke grumbled, leaning back against her SUV and moving her hips in slow circles, grinning when Varric's eyes were drawn, and held, by her swaying.

Varric grunted and tore his gaze away, tugging at her oversized sweater dress to draw her down. He kissed her, tongue sliding over her lower lip and making her groan. "You win," he whispered against her chin, trailing his kisses down to her neck. "Let me go grab my things from the office. I'll be by within the hour."

"Don't make me get started without you," she warned and winked, kissing him one last time before getting into her monstrous vehicle and driving away.

Varric watched her go, shuddering at the implications. As he climbed into his car, he glanced back to see the elf watching them from the window, grinning. Varric shook his head and went to throw the receipt into the trash bag in his car when he noticed blue ink on the back.

_You two are adorable. Let me know if you ever need company. xoxo Zevran, the handsome elf the lady couldn't stop staring at._

A phone number followed the note. Varric snorted and pocketed the receipt to show Hawke. She didn't seem to be interested in other men, oddly, but he thought it might at least be worth a laugh.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, poking at her ribcage. It had become more defined over the past week, embarrassing and shaming her at her lack of will or desire to take care of herself. She hadn't looked at herself much in protest. She frowned at her reflection, turning to the side, wincing at the sharp curve of her ribs. If she hadn't known better, she would think she was never eating.

_Well, you're not. And when you do, it's shit food,_ she allowed, running a finger between the ribs and shuddering. Varric was going to take one look at her and force-feed her everything in the fridge. She couldn't remember the last time she ate protein. Probably when Varric made her a chicken melt. That had been... Maker, that had been almost two weeks prior.

Hawke thought about running to the fridge and eating as much bacon as she could make in an hour. Not that it would help the immediate problem of her ribs looking like spires under her skin.

She had planned on wearing a pair of lacy black underwear Bianca had purchased for her. They were scant little strips of cloth and had looked fantastic two weeks prior. But now.... She went into her bedroom and pulled her longest, baggiest shirt from her pajama drawer and slipped into it. She slid her underwear off, though, if only because she wanted Varric to forget himself when he discovered she wasn't wearing any. She smirked. It was the little things that made Varric happiest.

Someone rapped on the door, three sold knocks, and she jumped. The print-reader clicked pleasantly, and Varric called in, "Hey, it's just me. I'm gonna set this stuff up on the coffee table."

"Bring it into the bedroom!" she called back, running a brush through her hair before grinning as he entered the room. "My desk has more room - and a chair, even."

"Lo and behold," Varric chuckled, setting a large, leather-bound book, his laptop, and a stack of forms on top of the desk. "I think you just wanted to get me as close to your bed as possible."

"You aren't wrong," she admitted, sliding onto the bed and patting to the comforter beside her. "Come on, handsome. Keep me company for a bit."

"How could I deny that face," Varric said, coming to her without a fight. He was just about to pin her beneath him, his legs going to either side of her waist, but Hawke wiggled a bit to flip the bedside light off. "Don't want to see me?" Varric asked in the sudden dark.

"You caught me," she teased, dragging him down to her mouth. Between kisses, she purred, "I want to pretend you're that elf from the diner."

Varric laughed, trailing kisses from her lips to her neck, nipping her jugular, tongue sliding across the thumping vein. "Speaking, of, he left his number on the receipt. He thought we were cute."

Hawke giggled, her head pressing into his chest. "Oh no, poor thing."

"Have something against elves?"

"Not even a bit, I just have my hands full as it is," she replied, flicking her tongue around one of his nipples and guiding him a little lower, her pelvis rubbing against him gently, leisurely.

"I'm not complaining, more for me," he breathed, his mouth lowering to her collarbone as a hand smoothed under the hem of her shirt. His hand paused on her exposed sex, and he let out a small chuckle. "I am certainly not complaining."

Hawke slid her hands to his sternum, curling them in his shirt and groaning softly. "Are you going to get undressed?" Her hips swiveled, pressing in a little harder against the growing bulge in his pants. "I'm sure I could make us come like this, of course, but wouldn't it be nicer to not act like horny 14-year-olds humping in the basement?"

"Spoken from experience?" Varric murmured, sliding off of her to pull his clothing off.

Hawke's fingers slid between her legs, flicking her clit and moaning, "Something like that."

Varric got back onto the bed and reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it off, but she slapped his hand away, trying to mask her sudden panic with a laugh. It wasn't convincing, too pitchy to be believable. "Why don't you quit wasting time and get inside of me?"

She couldn't see him clearly through the darkness, but she thought she saw his brow furrow. His hand returned to the hem. "What's going on, Marian?"

Hawke swallowed. He rarely used her first name, and when he did, it was serious. "I'm just feeling kind of gross," she tried innocently. "Bloaty from the pie."

His hands slid up the shirt and over her abdomen, stroking her skin with his calloused fingers. "Don't lie, Hawke. You're really bad at it."

"You know my tell, too?"

"I don't need it, but everyone with eyes knows your tell."

Hawke sighed and sat up to pull her shirt off before falling back onto the bed, waiting for his anger. His admonishment. It was better to get this fight over with, she supposed. Better to let him have at it and then go to bed feeling like shit. Varric's hands moved up her sides and hesitated on her ribs, his fingers tracing the bones. "Well, shit," he murmured.

It wasn't the reaction she expected. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Peaches," he whispered, leaning down to kiss across her ribs, his nose caressing her as he did. He made his way up and buried his face between her breasts, breathing her in. When he pulled back, he pulled her into a kiss. "We need to take better care of you," he murmured against her mouth. "Right?"

Hawke felt her throat sealing up. She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve how sweet he was. "Why can't you just yell at me?" she asked with a chuckle that was more sad than amused.

"I would if I thought it would do anything," he admitted, kissing her again. "But it wouldn't do anything except make you feel worse, and that's not what a... what _I'm_ supposed to do."

Hawke whimpered, overcome with emotion. With love. Love for her best friend. "Shit," she whispered, shaking her head and wishing she could hide. "Fuck, Varric, what are we doing?"

Varric stroked a hand over her cheek. "I think we're making things weird."

Hawke swallowed. "Can I make it worse?"

Varric chuckled, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Hit me with it."

Hawke closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. When she opened them, she reached up to hold Varric's thick jaw between her hands. "I think I'm in love with you."

Varric was on her in a second. His mouth was everywhere, grazing across her cheekbones and lips, her neck and collarbone, her nipples and navel. He was between her legs before she knew what was happening, her legs over his shoulders while he lavished her with his tongue and lips. Hawke shouted, bucking against him, holding his hair as he moved. She had forgotten about her confession, forgotten about potentially ruining what they had. His mouth on her clit and his finger slipping inside of her, caressing her g-spot, made everything else disappear.

Varric brought her to a knee-weakening orgasm, her voice slipping out in soft panting whines as her hips ceased their swiveling, and her muscles began to relax. Varric stayed where he was, though, skilled tongue lapping at her passage, collecting all of her juices with languid strokes.

Hawke laid quietly as he worked, her breath slowing, the nub between her legs aching with overstimulation. She let her mind come back down, and she remembered, abruptly and without meaning to, what she had said just minutes before. She winced and covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry," she groaned.

Varric finally pulled away from her, kissing her thighs and abdomen, trailing his lips up her body. He moved her legs, one spread wide and the other against him, knee bent over his shoulder. His cock pressed against her; she could feel him stroking it slowly, coaxing it as he asked, "What ridiculous thing do you think you need to apologize for, Peaches?"

Hawke grumbled behind her palms. "You know what."

She knew he was smiling; she could hear it in his voice when he purred, "I want to hear it again."

Hawke lowered her hands slightly, watching him over her fingertips. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see the look on his face. He looked pleased - he looked _more_ than pleased. "I love you," she admitted.

Varric pushed himself inside of her, bending down to lean over her, to watch her as he slid against her body deliberately. "I love you, too, Peaches. I always have."

Hawke clenched her jaw to keep the relieve and disbelief from escaping her lips. "You ass," she snipped without heat, going up on her elbows to press a kiss to his mouth. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Why didn't you?" he returned with a particularly solid thrust that bumped her cervix and made her moan in delight and pain. "Shut up and fuck me," was the only response she could muster.

He chuckled into her collarbone, his hips rocking faster. "Anything for you, Peaches."


	15. Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke speaks with the Arishok, the group takes a boat trip, and Varric realizes they might be seeing Bianca sooner than anticipated - and seeing Bianca's husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings/Notes:** Smut. Threesome - M/F/F.
> 
> This song's chapter inspiration goes to ["I'm Slowly Turning Into You," by The White Stripes.](https://open.spotify.com/track/7g5lVR5rliebycq7lnCWP3) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Varric Tethras**

The Arishok was the most enormous man Varric had ever seen. He was the biggest Qunari Varric had ever seen, in fact; granted, Varric hadn't seen many in his lifetime. Varric stood beside Hawke who seemed suddenly overwhelmed. She wasn't a readily intimidated woman, but it appeared she might have met her match in the Qunari.

"Serah Hawke," the Arishok intoned. He sounded as if he was chewing on gravel. "You are late."

"My apologies," Hawke mumbled, voice breaking. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, trying again. "My apologies, Arishok."

He stared at her for so long, and with so little emotion, that Varric was beginning to worry for their safety. He doubted the Arishok would risk any sort of attack on Kirkwallers while in the port, but they were standing on the Qunari's ship. No one else really knew where they were except Bianca, but she was home with Bogdan - she wasn't readily available for a distress call.

"I have called you here to discuss your potential involvement in a... reconnaissance mission I have been tasked to undertake," he murmured, voice hard. "We leave tomorrow evening."

"Leave for where?" Hawke asked, brow furrowing. "One day to prepare isn't much time if this trip involves travel."

"Tomorrow evening you will be briefed," was the Arishok's reply.

Hawke looked at Varric, mouthing, "Say something!"

Varric cleared his throat. "Arishok, I'm Varric Tethras, Hawke's business partner." The Arishok said nothing, sitting as still as stone. Varric powered through, layering on the charm. "As much as we would love to take your job and some of your money, we really need to know more details before we can get into an agreement. We need to draw up contracts-"

"No contracts."

Varric balked. "No contra -- look, I know our customs are probably quite different-"

"You have no idea, dwarf," the Qunari grumbled.

"-but you must realize that we need some form of paperwork. And we need to know where we're going, what we're looking for, and how long you plan on this expedition taking. We need to prepare our crew and leave someone in charge of things while we're gone."

"We don't need _you,_ dwarf," the Arishok muttered, his tone becoming hard. He seemed to be getting impatient. "As far as I was aware, Serah Hawke works with her siblings."

"Things have changed," Hawke replied.

"Ah, yes. Your sister is on the run, and your brother has joined the Templar Order," the Arishok returned. Hawke shivered at his tone, trying to suppress it but doing a terrible job. "So, you signed on with your inexperienced lover."

"Hawke, we should leave," Isabela whispered from behind her. Hawke's companions had been silent at her back for the entire conversation, but Hawke could sense their growing agitation. "This isn't worth it," she continued. "We can't get on a ship and go Maker-knows-where with people we don't know."

It was unusually cautious for the lovely woman, but Hawke could feel the unease radiating from her. Hawke was about to turn to the Arishok, to tell him to go fuck himself - much more respectfully, of course - when Fenris stepped up beside her, taking control of the conversation. He spoke in halting Qunlat; the Arishok looked surprised at the development. They spoke for a few minutes, Hawke's skin prickling with the strange language, with the guttural noises in her ears, but finally the Arishok turned his attention back to Hawke. "Your companion speaks highly of you. So do most of our spies here in Kirkwall. It seems you are honorable among your kind. It is surprising to hear such positive things about one of yours."

Hawke bit back her hot retort, trying to remind herself that the Arishok could easily snap her in half without hesitation. "I do my best."

"Humble is something I am unfamiliar with among the mainlanders." He regarded her for a moment before his eyes swept over her companions. "We have discovered the location of an old relic, lost during an attempted colonization in the Ancient Age. It is in a thaig below the Korcari Wilds. We would secure it ourselves, but a large force might arouse... concern. A concern we do not need at this time."

"You're preparing for another invasion?" Varric guessed. Hawke winced, wishing she could elbow the dwarf without being too obvious.

The Arishok chose not to answer. "We have spies all through the mainland; one has located rumors of the thaig's entrance. Upon your arrival in Ferelden, all of the details will be passed down. Four of my men, not counting the crew of our ship, will accompany you on this expedition. We will return you to your festering city and be gone once you locate the relic."

Hawke nodded, glancing at Varric. The dwarf looked troubled, but not overly so. "Should we discuss payment? I know the Qunari don't deal in money-"

The Arishok waved his hand aggressively, making Varric's voice break off, and Hawke took a step back involuntarily. "Enough. We will pay you in whatever you find in the thaig. If you find nothing or an inadequate amount, we will pay what we deem is a fair price."

"And what fair price would that be?" Hawke pressed. "I can't drag my people to Ferelden without some assurances."

The Arishok showed no sign of hearing her; he was as still as the gargoyles guarding the Keep. Finally, after a few moments, he nodded to one of the men beside him. The man unfurled his arms and left the assembly, descending below the deck. Hawke and her group stood awkwardly in front of the harsh gazes of the gathered Qunari.

Hawke had begun to shift from foot to foot. Varric could see her anxiousness, but luckily it could be passed off as a mild irritation; not that annoyance was a good thing to show the Arishok. Varric wanted to touch her, but he knew he couldn't do so discreetly with the way the Arishok was watching them, unblinking.

The Qunari returned with a large bag, tossing it toward Hawke. The sack hadn't been closed, evidently, because a trail of sovereigns fell out of it.

Varric's eyes widened. There was at least a fifth of what they'd gathered in the thaig in the bag. Hawke cleared her throat and looked up at the Arishok. "What is this?"

"Starting costs," he replied coolly. "Gather what you need, make your preparations. You have one week."

Hawke swallowed and glanced at Varric. "What do you think?"

Varric sighed, glancing at the Arishok. "Can we have a moment?" The Quanri didn't respond, and Varric took that for an affirmative. He pulled Hawke's elbow gently, bringing her to the bowsprit and out of the way from searching eyes. "I don't like this, Peaches."

Hawke glanced back toward the main deck, biting her lower lip. "It's a lot of money, Varric."

"We don't need it, Hawke," he returned softly. "If you're worried about gold, we can go back down to our thaig. I had doors installed; we have sole access. All of that gold is yours if you want it. Just... don't do this."

Hawke lowered herself to him, kissing him deeply, a hand caressing his jaw. When she pulled back, still hovering in front of his face, she whispered, "What about the excitement?"

Varric wanted to roll his eyes at her, but she was so earnest that he couldn't. She wanted this. He swallowed and stroked her cheek. "If you want this, I'm with you."

"Are you sure?" she asked, brow furrowing. "If you want to pass on this, we pass on this." She pressed her forehead against his. "I can't do this without you, and I can't force you. I won't."

Varric smiled wearily. "Let's do it, then."

Hawke kissed him again, the excitement in her eyes making them dance, pale in the bright sunlight. She turned to walk back to the main deck, not glancing back.

Varric looked out over the port, toward the Waking Sea, and sighed. He hated boats. He hated the Deep Roads. He hated the thaigs. He hated what had happened the last time Hawke had gone into one.

"Well, shit," he muttered.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke had luckily never been one for sea-sickness. On the trip to The Free Marches, the Hawke family hadn't been able to secure passage on a plane or jet; the disaster of the Blight had made such a trip impossible to afford, even with the family's generous finances. So, they had settled on a boat. It was nothing like the cruise they had gone on the previous year. It was unlike anything Hawke had ever expected to exist. They, and countless other families, shared a hold. Everyone used the same four bathrooms and lived together on cots. Bethany had simpered that they would become friends with all of the families and have a complex network of loved-ones soon enough. She had been kidding, of course - none of them had kept in touch, choosing to enter Kirkwall without any ties. Not all of them would make it in, after all.

That first trip across the Waking Sea had only taken a few weeks, but it was the least fun few weeks of Hawke's life. It could have had something to do with her father's death, her mother's lethargy, or even suddenly being the head of the house and responsible for their lives entirely.

The second trip across the Waking Sea turned out to be infinitely more pleasant. Hawke would have still preferred a private jet, of course, but the ship would do. It wasn't luxurious at all - what Qunari put any stock into luxury? - but it was large and sleek with spacious private rooms and more than enough space for all of their equipment.

Varric, Isabela, and Fenris had been the only ones Hawke had expected to make it. She tried to send word to Anders to see if Bethany would like to take a trip away from the hot-bed of Kirkwall for a time, but she hadn't heard back. Anders was cycling his phones, dumping them within a few days, so she hadn't expected anything to come of it.

Even so, on the day of their departure, Bethany was there on the dock. She looked thinner, which was not a good look on Bethany. She looked gaunt, her eyes haunted and far-off.

Hawke hugged her sister close before escorting her to the ship and below decks, setting her up in a room across from Hawke's. "How have you been?" Hawke asked when they were safely out of ear-shot of the Qunari crew.

Bethany smiled sadly. "It's been taxing. We move bases on a weekly basis. It's hard to know who we can trust among the ranks. Most are good, honest, hard-working people who only want to live. But there are some who are so... bitter and angry. There might be some who are only there to kill the Templars. There might be some who are thinking of turning to blood magic. We're doing our best to stem those, to make them see reason, but -- I don't know, Marian. It's hard."

Hawke hugged the girl close to her, nose buried in her hair. She didn't smell like Crystal Grace anymore; she smelled like elfroot and something sharp and medicinal. "I've missed you so much," she whispered.

"I've missed you," she replied wetly.

Hawke stroked Bethany's back, holding her close, and continued, "Come home."

Bethany pulled back gently, offering her the closest thing to a smile she could muster. "This is too important, Marian. The freedom of the mages in the Gallows - Andraste, in _every_  circle - is worth the fight."

Hawke nodded, holding Bethany's hands until a knock on the door startled them apart. "Bethany, Hawke," Fenris called in, "dinner is being served in the mess."

Hawke frowned. It was only four in the afternoon. Even so, she wouldn't turn down an opportunity to fatten Bethany up. "Come on," she murmured, taking Bethany's hand and drawing her toward the door. "We need to get you fed."

"Warm food would be a nice change," the younger sibling mused, but the blush on her cheeks had little to do with the prospect of sustenance, Hawke would guess, and everything to do with the elf joining them on their voyage.

 

* * *

 

"These rooms are massive," Isabela had proclaimed as she set her bags down in one of their five-allotted rooms that night. "Maker's balls look at these beds!"

The beds were, indeed, huge. Hawke pretended not to notice the coy look on Isabela's face and hid her own smirk. "They are. Plenty of room for tossing and turning."

Isabela smirked and flopped onto the bed, smirking up at Hawke. "Plenty of room for many things, Puppy."

Hawke bit her lower lip and stepped toward Isabela slowly. It had been a while since they'd had any time together - the last being Hawke's drunken breakdown that resulted in Isabela curling Hawke's wet, naked body into Isabela's bed.

Isabela's smile grew, and she leaned back on her palms, legs spread a bit. She wasn't wearing much, as was her custom - she'd sported a halter top, sans bra, and a pair of tiny shorts that showed off her delightfully dark thighs and slender calves.

"Why hello there," she purred as Hawke sidled between her thighs. Isabela craned her neck upward languidly as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Decided to slum it with me for the night?"

"If you'll have me," Hawke returned silkily, fingering a lock of Isabela's wild waves.

"I'll always have you, Puppy," Isabela crooned, hooking Hawke's waist and pulling her down onto her lap. She pressed her lips against Hawke's neck, murmuring, "How will Varric get on without you?"

"I'm sure he'll live," she returned nonchalantly, though she did wish she could kill two bird with one stone and fall asleep with both of them. If there had been anything pleasant about being possessed in the Deep Roads, it was the nighttime company.

Hawke turned her face to catch Isabela's full lower lip in her teeth, nipping and pulling gently. The woman chuckled, pulling back so her lip slid out of Hawke's hold before descending on her neck with hard nips and sucks. Hawke's eyes fluttered as she ran her hands through Isabela's hair while the woman descended lower on her clavicle.

"I have something for you," Isabela hummed suddenly, raising her face to Hawke's and kissing her deeply.

Hawke held her in place, tongue sliding into her mouth and caressing over hers. "Color me intrigued."

Isabela chuckled and tossed Hawke off of her lap. "Later," Isabela breathed, lowering herself to Hawke's legs. She made quick work of Hawke's jeans, sliding .them and her panties to the floor. She had been close to delving between Hawke's legs, but the pale woman grabbed a fistful of Isabela's hair and tugged it back. "I think I have to make up for a few weeks of aloof behavior, don't you?"

Isabela got to her feet, smirking, thrusting her hips toward Hawke's face. Hawke could smell her muskiness even through the denim shorts. "Always the people-pleaser, aren't you, Puppy?"

"Woof," Hawke smirked, undoing Isabela's shorts. She undressed the woman quickly before leading her to the porthole. "Just lean here and relax," Hawke breathed, pushing Isabela against the wall, her face staring out over the sea. Hawke went to her knees and spread Isabela's legs, pulling her hips back, and went to work.

It was difficult reaching Isabela's clit with her mouth, given the angle, but with a straining pain in her neck, Hawke managed. She circled Isabela's engorged nub, delighting with each cry Isabela uttered. She turned her attention to Isabela's passage, stroking her tongue around the muscled entrance, a finger going to Isabela's clit and pressing roughly. Isabela cried out, bucking her hips, and Hawke's tongue slid toward Isabela's ass.

Hawke froze, unsure what to do, but Isabela was groaning and grinding against her mouth at the sudden motion and Hawke, always the people-pleaser, decided now was a perfect time to try something new. After all, they were on a Qunari ship with an unknown crew, in the middle of the ocean, and with subpar plumbing. What could go wrong?

Hawke's tongue slid between Isabela's cheeks, her hands moving from the woman's hips to her ass, spreading. Her heart was hammering with anxiety as her tongue swept over the small hole, and Isabela yelped, pressing back against her. Hawke's tongue got bolder with each pass, with each yowl of joy that fell from Isabela's very loud mouth. Hawke's tongue roughly probed Isabela and the woman tossed her head back, hair dusting across Hawke's as she came, shuddering and gripping the edges of the porthole.

Hawke grinned, rocking onto her feet and helping Isabela's still shuddering body to the bed. The woman collapsed, stretched out and languid as a cat. Hawke took her moment of bliss to move into the bathroom, quickly brushing her teeth with her finger and toothpaste. When she returned to the room, Isabela was still basking, her dusky skin shimmering in the sunset off of the water outside.

"That was perfection, Puppy," Isabela sighed contentedly. Hawke grinned and sauntered to the bed, pulling her shirt over her head but leaving her bra. She leaned over Isabela, tonguing gently at the blue gem pierced through Isabela's bellybutton. She licked her way up Isabela's sternum, collecting the faint taste of salt. She licked her way between the albatross' wings before reaching Isabela's mouth.

Hawke was enjoying languidly exploring the other woman's mouth when a knock on their door startled them apart. "Think it's one of those big, handsome oxmen?" Isabela tried to whisper but failed to do so.

Hawke winced, casting a wide-eyed look back at her lover. Isabela bit her lower lip, trying to look coy as she sat, naked and sultry. "Are you trying to get us killed?" Hawke managed to actually whisper.

"Well, look at them. At least you'd have a good view to go out to."

Hawke rolled her eyes and turned to call out to whoever was on the other side of the door, but their visitor beat her to it. "Isabela, Hawke in there with you?" Varric. "By all the shouting, I would guess so?"

Hawke tried not to laugh but failed. "I'm here."

"Come in!" Isabela called, sitting up on her elbows, looking, for the life of her, like a page from a gentlemen's magazine.

Varric stepped through and, upon seeing Isabela and Hawke's state of undress, shut the door behind him. He turned his grin from Isabela to Hawke. "You could have just said to come back."

"Nonsense," Isabela breathed, her hair sliding over her shoulder to brush the duvet. "I've been trying to get you into bed with me for years, Vee. What kind of seductress would I be if I didn't take advantage now?"

"I'm flattered-"

"I know, I know," Isabela groaned, rolling her eyes and glancing at the ceiling in exasperation. "You aren't into me. But you are into _her,"_ she grinned, nudging Hawke. "So why don't you help me thank her for this opportunity to make us even richer?"

"It's more about the excitement than the m-" Hawke began before all of the words caught up with her. "O-oh," she stammered, looking from Isabela to Varric. She blinked at him, and he blinked at her. Hawke broke first. "I mean... I wouldn't say no."

Varric chuckled, looking down at his boots for a moment while running a hand through his hair. "What do you have in mind, Rivaini?"

"Well, it involves us all naked and Hawke sandwiched between us," Isabela smirked, getting to her knees. Her hips were swiveling slightly, and Hawke let out a little sigh of appreciation. "Why don't you distract our mutual lover, Varric?"

Varric moved from the door in the time Hawke was admiring Isabela. He placed a hard kiss to Hawke's neck, biting down and making Hawke yelp and then groan. She cradled his neck, keeping him against her as his mouth sucked her skin in, teeth pinning it in place. Her eyelids were fluttering so quickly that she almost didn't see Isabela when the woman moved in front of her, rifling through her bags.

Varric blocked her view by placing his mouth on hers, a bruising kiss making all other thoughts stutter out of Hawke's head. Her fingers gripped his face between them and his moved down her back, deftly unhooking the slender strap of her bra and tugging it away from her. His mouth lowered to her newly exposed breasts and, over Varric's head, Hawke saw what Isabela's _surprise_ was - a strap-on.

"Oh," Hawke whispered, eyes widening at the size of the thing. "Oh, my."

Isabela smirked and swatted Varric's ass, making him jolt. "I've never had to ask a man to get undressed twice, Vee. Get to it."

Varric grumbled something under his breath, eyes following Isabela's nubbed, glass erection as he slid out of his clothes. He was naked within the minute and moved up the bed, pulling Hawke along with him. She launched herself at him, climbing to his waist without instruction, her lower body rocking gently across his cock. Isabela got behind her, pushing Hawke's back and forcing her down. Hawke's mouth found Varric's at the new angle and their tongues struggled against one another. Before Hawke could even think of lowering herself to Varric's alert and straining cock, Isabela ran a hand between her legs. "Puppy, you're dripping," she cooed.

Hawke thrust back into Isabela's hand, and the woman chuckled, pulling back only long enough to grasp Varric's cock and guide it inside of Hawke. Hawke groaned hotly, and Varric even had to suppress a gratified shudder. They moved together roughly, pelvises smashing into one another without concern for the other's pain. They were panting, each smirk taunting the other, goading them into releasing first.

"Ready, Puppy?"

"Ready?" she repeated, confused, but Isabela seemed to mistake her question for affirmation. The strap on was suddenly pressing into her ass, pushing through her tight ring and into her. Hawke squealed, shoving down into Varric and making him grunt.

"Fuck, Rivaini," Varric grumbled, his hands gripping Hawke's hips to steady her. "Maybe some finesse next time?"

"Next time?" Isabela laughed wolfishly, shoving against Hawke, forcing the glass deeper inside and making Hawke squeak. "And Puppy doesn't need finesse. She needs a firm hand."

Hawke hated how easily Isabela could turn her into putty. Varric was the better lover, by far, but there was something about Isabela's confidence and ability to completely take over a situation that made Hawke weak in the knees. "Harder," she whimpered, not sure who she directed it to.

Neither were they, but that didn't stop them. Isabela slammed herself into Hawke's ass, nails biting into Hawke's waist, dragging her back to meet the thrusts. Varric had taken up a matching pace to Isabela. His hands moved from her waist to give Isabela more room, sliding down to her thighs, yanking them forward to scoot her closer and make a tighter angle. Hawke howled in pleasure at the sensation of both of them inside of her, of their ruminations on her body. Isabela had leaned down to place open-mouthed kisses along her back and Varric had busied himself with her pert nipples practically hanging in his face.

Isabela placed a hard smack against Hawke's ass, making her jolt and groan, when Varric bit down on her breast, working on a second hickey. Hawke gasped and shoved down onto Varric harder, gasping, until she groaned and came, her body shuddering and making it impossible for the others to continue their pace.

Isabela slowly and carefully pulled the dildo from Hawke's ass, and Hawke grunted softly at the sudden emptiness. The woman leaned down to place a kiss against Hawke's temple. "You two finish up, I'm getting a shower." She pressed her mouth to Varric's cheek before sauntering out of the room and leaving them to their own devices.

"Hey," Hawke whispered against his chest where she'd landed after her bone-shattering release.

Varric caressed a hand down her arm, murmuring, "Eloquent as always." When she reached up to place a finger against his lips, he drew the digit into his mouth, sucking gently. "Was Rivaini right? You need a firm hand?"

"Sometimes," Hawke mumbled, finger curling against Varric's tongue before sliding free. "But sometimes I need to be rewarded, not punished."

Varric hummed, his grin soft. His hands slid to her hips and began to move her again, this time leisurely. She rolled her pelvis against his, unhurried, a hand in his and the other on his chest, bracing herself. Varric watched her, his hands running gentle traces along her body. He held her face, caressed a thumb under her lips, and stretched up to catch her mouth with his. Hawke's motions were becoming erratic, but so was Varric's breathing. She tried to hold out, to keep from coming before him, but it was a losing battle. A sharp jerk of his hips drove his cock into her deeper, and she shouted, shuddering and unraveling into a puddle on his chest.

Varric followed close behind, grunting into her shoulder, nose in her short hair. He gasped softly, holding her close, his breathing shuddering through his chest and into hers. Hawke laid very still, eyes closing, listening to the blood rushing through her ears and feeling Varric's coarse hair against her cheek.

When Isabela finally came out of the bathroom, still glistening with water droplets, she found them curled up together under the blankets, their limbs tangled together. "Ooh," Isabela cooed, coming to the bed and sliding in behind Hawke. "Sleepover!"

Hawke chuckled tiredly, her face curled against Varric's clavicle. "At least this time I'm unbound," she mumbled. She felt Varric smile and heard Isabela chuckle.

"I kind of liked you all trussed up, Puppy," Isabela cooed in her ear.

"Save it for later, Rivaini," Varric murmured, kissing the top of Hawke's head. "More than enough time for all of that later."

"You're no fun, Vee," Isabela groaned, but she kissed Hawke's shoulder and settled into sleep without a fuss.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

He stared at the four Qunari in front of him. They were stony-faced, their red vitaar glistening like blood. "What now?"

One of the Qunari, one with a pair of massive swords on his back, grunted. "We will take these vehicles to Orzammar. That is where our source for the Deep Roads entrance is."

"Orzammar?" Hawke repeated dumbly, her eyes moving to Varric's. When the Qunari did not answer, Hawke cleared her throat and looked at the party members, their gear, and then the massive SUVs in front of them. Varric knew she wasn't concerned with the transportation; she was concerned with going to Orzammar.

Varric nodded toward the SUVs. "Let's get moving, then." He offered Hawke an awkward smile, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I guess we should warn Bianca."

"How bad is this?" Hawke asked in an undertone while the others put the gear into the vehicles.

"Oh, it won't be too bad," Varric murmured as his fingers flew across his phone's keyboard. "Her brothers have only threatened to kill me four times in the past, which is pretty good for them. Her parents did everything they could to oust me from the Merchants' Guild. Oh, and her husband knows I'm Bianca's side piece, so. There's always that."

Hawke winced, running a hand over her face. "Damn, Tethras, you really don't make shit easy, do you?"

"I thought you wanted excitement," he teased her and she slapped his arm, unable to hide her grin.


	16. Hypnotize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bianca has an unexpected confession, Varric and Hawke hesitantly talk about the future, and Hawke and Varric have a strange tent-partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Notes/Warnings:** Smut. Hawke/Varric fluff.
> 
> This chapter's inspiration song is ["Hypnotize," by The White Stripes.](https://open.spotify.com/track/1MnV1f45qkf665AFZGNwgO) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Varric Tethras**

Everything looked the same in Orzammar. Varric assumed that could very well be because he was a surface-dwarf and went out of his way to never go underground. That included the capital thaig, and mining hub, of his people. Even so - would it have killed someone to throw some color on the house facades?

Varric and Hawke left Isabela, Fenris, and Bethany at Tapster's Tavern for the night and followed a harried dwarf toward the Vasca estate. The dwarf kept muttering something under his breath, looking back at Varric accusingly.

"What'd you do to him?" Hawke asked in an undertone as they walked.

"Nothing that I know of," Varric admitted. "Surface dwarves tend to elicit that response. And if they know about -- well, let's just say that might know something Bianca didn't want them to."

Hawke nodded, and Varric tried to keep his palms from sweating in anxiousness. He wasn't sure what to expect from Bianca - or Bianca's husband. Varric was reasonably sure kissing the lovely dwarf was out of the question, though.

They arrived just as Hawke's feet were beginning to hurt. Isabela had forced her into a pair of heels and a dress, something that Varric wasn't sure why she had brought along. As small as the heels were, they were pinching Hawke's toes and chafing the back of her ankle, which she whispered about every few minutes. Varric wished she wasn't uncomfortable, but he had to admit that her backside in the tight sheath was breathtaking.

Their guide led them into a large home built in the stone, the crest on the door blindingly blue. The entrance hall they found themselves in was demure, dressed up in pale blues and deep sapphires. Bianca and Bogdan stood before them, Bogdan's arm wrapped lazily around Bianca's waist.

Bianca grinned, her cheeks dimpling. She strode toward them, taking Varric by the shoulders and placing a kiss on his cheek. Bianca turned to Hawke who lowered to accept a kiss of her own. "It's so good to see you two again," she gushed, a hand sliding absently over her pale, strangely baggy dress. Varric eyes followed the motion, narrowing for a moment. "Bogdan, you remember Varric?"

Bogdan stepped closer, peering at them all from a full face of black hair and beard. "I do. Varric."

"Bogdan," Varric nodded. He knew he looked composed, but he also knew his hands were definitely sweating now.

"And this is Marian Hawke," Bianca continued, her smile twitching upward. "Varric's new business partner - and girlfriend."

Bogdan had evidently not expected that. His furry brows rose high, and he repeated, "Girlfriend?"

"It's nice to meet you," Hawke said, unable to keep the grin off her face. Bogdan was looking between Hawke and Bianca, probably wondering how someone like Varric went from one to the other. Hawke tried not to let it sting and shifted in her heels uncomfortably.

"What, ah," Bogdan began, tearing his eyes away from Hawke, "what did you need that brings your lot all the way out here?"

"We need information," Varric replied easily. "On a thaig entrance somewhere in the Korcari Wilds."

Bogdan looked perplexed. "The Korcari -- why would we know anything about that?"

"We have a source we're supposed to speak to tomorrow," Hawke interrupted, unsure if she should or not. She wasn't good with her own kind's customs, let alone dwarven ones. "I just hoped I could come visit Bianca while we're here."

Bogdan nodded, the tension in his shoulders lessening. "Well, why not spend the night? The walk back to Tapster's is long enough without the added irritation of the nighttime riffraff."

Varric tried not to smile as he glanced at Hawke. "That sounds good to me. Hawke?"

Hawke nodded, also seeming more excited than she wanted to let on. "Of course. I'd love to get out of these shoes."

Bianca chuckled and took Hawke's arm, leading her further into the house. "Come on by the fire, and I'll get you some tea. Varric, take care of your woman and get those shoes off of her!"

Varric chuckled and did as asked when Hawke was comfortably sat down by a roaring fireplace. He kissed her cheek and murmured, "Stay put. I want to have a word with Bianca." Hawke nodded, squeezing his hand before he left.

The walk through the home and into the kitchen was a long one. The wide, thick hallways and extensive stretches of empty air bothered Varric. It was unsettling. But he eventually found the kitchen and, in it, Bianca. As promised, she was boiling water for tea and looked up, startled, when Varric entered. She grinned, but it fell quickly when she noticed the look on his face. "Varric, what...?"

Varric sighed, leaning against the archway. "How long?"

She blinked. "I don't do well at guessing games, Vee."

Varric glanced around to ensure they were alone before adding, "How long have you known you're pregnant?"

Bianca blanched, looking back down at the stove. She was silent for so long that Varric almost repeated his question. Wincing, she murmured, "I don't know what to tell you."

"Is it mine?" he pressed, already knowing the answer.

"No," she breathed, swallowing. "I found out the same day Bartrand called me to say you were dead."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Varric asked. He wasn't sure if he was more upset or confused.

Bianca finally looked up at him and shrugged. "I don't know, Vee. I didn't want to fuck up the trip. I thought you were dead, and then you weren't. I... I just wanted things to be good, not tense or awkward."

Varric sighed and ran a hand over his face. He pushed off of the archway and pulled her into a hug, holding her close and breathing in her scent. "I just wish you'd said something."

"It's not a big deal," she murmured.

"Nugshit," he returned without heat, pulling back to look down at her small, rounded belly. "How far along?"

She sighed and pressed a hand to her abdomen. "Close to three months."

"Shit," Varric laughed, unable to help it. "Maker's balls, Bianca, you're out of the woods."

"Don't jinx me," she chuckled, looking adoringly down at the bump. "But yes. If this thing didn't die in the womb after I heard Bartrand's message, I think it never will."

"Immortal," Varric agreed.

Bianca's smile was gentle as she reached out to stroke Varric's cheek. "I want to come by your room later and visit if that's okay."

"Of course," Varric replied, trying not to smirk. There was only one kind of late-night-visit that Bianca was fond of. "I think Peaches would like that."

"And you?"

"And me."

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke was in the middle of undressing for the night when Varric finally came back to their room from his hunt for snack foods. He was laden down with little cakes and salty cracker mixes when he entered, two soda cans balanced under an arm.

Hawke helped him set the items on the bed, giggling like a child as she poked through the offerings. "Maker's balls, JanJans," she groaned, grabbing one of the bags and brandishing it. "I used to love these!"

Varric laughed at her while she shuffled through the Ferelden snacks, gushing about each one of them. "I used to live off of these in school," she confided about one snack cake. "Oh, Dad and Bethy used to fight over these; the rest of us never got any," she tittered, putting those snacks into her purse to take to Bethany.

Just as they sat down to tuck into their fatty feast, Hawke in her skimpy underwear and Varric in nothing at all, their door opened with a creak. Bianca slid inside, grinning brightly at them as she did. "Ooh, I see you found the pantry."

"There's more than enough to share," Hawke offered, sliding up the bed to make room for Bianca. "How are you? It's fantastic to see you -- oh Maker," Hawke whispered. Bianca had slid out of her dress and was standing in nothing but a smile, her swollen abdomen more defined. "Bianca, are you...?"

Bianca raised an eyebrow at Varric. "You didn't tell her?"

Hawke's eyes widened. She knew she probably looked like a halla in headlights, but the words shook her to her core. She whirled on Varric, whispering, "She's pregnant?!"

Varric winced. "Yeah. Just found out a few hours ago."

Hawke's mouth was agape. She opened and closed it over and over, looking for the right words. "Is it... I mean, is it yours?"

"Oh, honey, no," Bianca said quickly, getting onto the bed and pulling Hawke into her arms. "It's Bogdan's. I was pregnant when we met."

Hawke let out a breath she hadn't meant to, the tension in her shoulders letting out in a sudden rush. She had expected something like this to be possible - for Varric and Bianca to have a child, to make a life, to leave Hawke behind. She just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. But it wasn't Varric's baby, and Hawke was suddenly concerned about that scenario, too. She looked over at Varric and found him smiling sadly at the pair. He blinked at her slowly, reassuringly, but he had a tell - a vein in his temple would pulse when he was upset.

Bianca pulled back and looked at them, biting her lower lip. "I can go if-"

Varric shook his head, pulling Bianca to him and kissing her deeply. "I'm happy for you," he said. Hawke almost believed him.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Bianca had returned to her husband after a few hours of the trio's exploits. Varric found himself on his side, Hawke cradling his bulk as best as she could from behind. "Are you okay?" she whispered against his neck.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm happy for her. She's never been the type to want kids, but she seems... content."

Hawke was quiet for a time, running the slender arm draped over his waist across the thick trail of hair from his chest to groin. "Do you want kids? Someday," she added quickly.

Varric chuckled, putting a hand over hers. "Maybe someday."

He could hear Hawke's breathing speeding up, could hear her swallow thickly. Varric braced himself, but that didn't prepare him for her next words.

"I've never heard of a human-dwarf kid before."

Varric bit his lower lip, staring at the wall in front of him. "They're rare. Andraste's tits, pure _dwarven_ children are rare."

Hawke hummed absently, pressing her face into his shoulder blade, kissing it. "I think I might want kids. Maybe. Someday. No rush, of course. If it takes time, it'd just mean more fun in the process."

Varric turned to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead. He held her close and ran his fingers through her hair as they drifted into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Their contact, surprisingly, was the same dwarven guide who had led them to Bogdan and Bianca's house the previous night. He met them over a breakfast of thick bacon, crusty bread, and perfectly glossy eggs at Tapster's.

"The thaig entrance is in the Wilds near Ostegar," he told them in an undertone, glancing around him as if suspicious someone was listening.

"You're rather jumpy," Varric tried to soothe him with a gentle smile. "It's fine; it's just us."

The dwarf made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. "This information could get you killed. Things aren't right down there. We went in years back, nearly two decades ago, and found nothing but death. Darkspawn were oozing from every wall and crack in the floor. Haunting wails were echoing through the chambers. And a baby, believe it or not."

"A baby?" Hawke repeated, her eyebrows rising. She was no doubt wondering how there was suddenly non-stop mention of children.

"A little thing, toddler, not old enough to defend himself down there," the dwarf insisted, shaking his head. "The man I was with, Bodahn, took the baby and we high-tailed it out of there. I gave up on surface-exploration and came back down here to serve Vasca."

"Do you know where we can find this... Bodahn?" Varric asked, trying to remember why the name sounded so familiar. Perhaps Bartrand had dealings with him in the past.

The dwarf snorted, leaning back in his chair. "It was near 20 years ago. I heard he had a woman in Denerim, but that was back when we were on the expedition together. He could be anywhere; he could have died in the Blight for all I know."

Hawke, who hadn't said much as she ate, cleared her throat. "Is there anything else? More thorough details we can use to find this thaig on our own?"

The dwarf observed them for a moment before sighing. "The entrance we went through was in the midst of a collapsed pile of rubble that used to be some Grey Warden stronghold. I would suggest going to Ostegar first, but don't dwell there. Restless spirits and all that. From Ostegar, enter the Wilds and keep going North. The ruins are a bit to the west ten miles out. All-terrain vehicles would be helpful unless your idiotic quest requires walking."

Hawke ignored him and finished her strong coffee. "Anything else, Varric?"

Varric worried his lower lip before shaking his head, passing a few sovereign notes across the table discreetly. "Thanks for your help."

The dwarf took the money, pocketing it, before getting to his feet. He regarded them for a moment before leaning down. "Don't get yourselves killed," he muttered. "I'm not a fan of the master of the house, but the mistress is a good sort, and she likes you both. I don't want to be around when she gets another call that one - or both - of you are dead."

Hawke smiled softly. "Thanks, but we're tough."

The dwarf rolled his eyes and left the tavern. Varric glanced at Hawke and raised an eyebrow at her. She looked excited, her entire body practically vibrating with energy. "You ready for this?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Born ready," she breathed, getting to her feet. "I'll wake the others." She leaned down, pressing her lips to Varric and drawing looks from those around them. She sauntered out of the tavern and toward the rooms, allowing Varric - and most the bar - to watch her perfect hips swing.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

The trip to Ostegar took less time than Hawke had expected. The Qunari drove fast and without much care for the scenery. There had been more than one occasion where their chauffeurs had gone off-road to avoid the traffic around them. Hawke was pretty sure it was illegal to go tearing through farms and parks, but the Qunari probably wouldn't have listened even if she said something. So she kept quiet and enjoyed the reddish-brown dirt of Ferelden as they drove.

"I've missed this," Bethany breathed happily, rolling her window down slightly to take in the smell of wet earth.

"It smells like dog," Varric muttered.

"What's wrong with dogs?" Isabela chuckled, also rolling her window down. "I've been all over the world in my time, loves, and something about Ferelden is... wholesome. Too good for the likes of us."

Hawke smirked and looked at Varric. "If we had time after this expedition, I'd show you some of the nicer parts of Ferelden."

Fenris snorted at the prospect of nicer parts of Ferelden and made Varric chuckle. He tried to bite his sarcasm down. "Are they parts above ground?"

Hawke rolled her eyes but grinned, leaning back in her seat. "A few of them," she admitted.

"Ooh, I bet he'd like the grotto," Bethany spoke up from the third row of seats.

"Grotto?" Varric repeated. He hated to admit his interest was piqued.

"No-go, Tethras," she mock-sighed. "The grotto's underground."

Bethany's laugh was a tinkling bell, pure and all-consuming.

 

* * *

 

Hawke had expected the bodies that littered the former battlefield would have been picked clean by looters, but many of those they stumbled through still had their guns and uniforms intact. Bones bleached by the sun stared up at them, gaping jaws and empty sockets.

"Maker," Bethany wheezed, falling back from the bodies with a horrified gasp. Fenris wrapped an arm around her, pulling her face into his shoulder as he stared stonily at the stretches of unburied dead.

Hawke looked between the bodies and swallowed thickly. The machine guns could come in handy, but something about taking things from the dead who fought, and died, for Ferelden....

Isabela had no such qualms and snatched guns from the corpses, passing them out without even a hint of remorse. Hawke took the offered gun, checking the stock and clip as her skin attempted to crawl off of her body. It wasn't right. It wasn't right to be doing this.

"They're dead, Puppy," Isabela said as if sensing Hawke's tension. "They don't need it now."

"She is right," Fenris grumbled, shouldering the gun strap over his arm and nodding toward Isabela, one of his arms still clasping Bethany to him. "Check for clips."

While Isabela rooted through the bodies, Hawke turned her attention to their escorts. The four Quanri stood like a living wall between the vehicles and Hawke's crew. They were stony-faced, immovable.

"Found clips," Isabela called. "Grab a bag for me?"

One of the Qunari tossed her a thick gunny sack, and she snatched it from the air, filling it to the brim with ammo. When finished she wrinkled her nose at Hawke. "I didn't anticipate feeling this blase while standing on someone's former pelvis."

Fenris' frown widened. "Imagine that often, do you?"

Isabela shrugged, shouldering the bag. "I'm willing to try anything once."

Hawke made a disgusted noise and turned back to the Qunari. "Can we get this roadshow moving?"

The four escorts grunted simultaneously, making Hawke shudder, and turned to lead the band back to the vehicles. "You'd think we were prisoners," Bethany murmured as they walked, their wardens glancing again to ensure they were still following.

"Might as well be," Varric sighed. "They're Qunari."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Bethany asked softly.

"Anyone not of the Qun is a lesser being," Fenris murmured, his arm still around Bethany. Hawke watched them for a moment until Isabela looped an arm around Hawke's waist.

"Puppy, have I mentioned how much I despise the Qun?"

"You haven't, and perhaps you shouldn't," Hawke replied, warily regarding the large Qunari leading them. "I'd rather not end up with a dagger in my back."

Varric snorted but said nothing; his eyes remained trained ahead.

 

* * *

 

They found the ruins at sundown. The crumbling structure stretched up toward the sky like ribs, shards scraping the sky.

"Why would the Grey Wardens abandon such a place?" Bethany breathed, touching one of the remaining pillars. "This used to be gorgeous in its day."

"It might have had something to do with the witches," Hawke intoned, watching the surrounding woods with a prickling sensation on her neck. She felt as if something watched her, but she could see nothing.

"Witches?" Varric repeated. He sounded as if he was going to laugh at her, but just barely held it at bay.

"The Witches of the Wilds," Bethany nodded somberly. "They're real. People in our town claimed they were real, anyway."

"There is a Witch of the Wilds in Antiva, too," Isabela spoke up from where she was kicking rubble around, trying to distract herself from watching the Qunari setting up camp. The woman seemed to have taken a fancy to them sometime between declaring her hatred of the Qun and then.

"I would not be surprised if this place had all kinds of horrors," Fenris agreed, glancing around the treeline. "Something dark happened here."

"Lots of dark things happened here, it's where the Blight eally started, isn't it?" Varric asked, trying to soothe the tension in the air. He glanced toward the Qunari; one of them had gotten a fire started and set up fluorescent lanterns around the newly erected tents. "Let's go see what's for dinner."

Hawke shook her head, rubbing a hand over her arm. "I'm going to get my stuff in order. You guys go ahead."

Bethany sighed. "You still do this?"

Hawke shrugged innocently. "I wouldn't know what you mean."

"The _no eating the night before a descent_  routine."

Hawke smirked. "It's tradition."

"It's a superstition," Bethany argued.

Hawke shrugged, glancing around the thick woods. "It hasn't failed me yet." She shouldered her massive pack and carried it into one of the three tents, setting it down against the corner of the polycotton wall. She had finished setting her sleeping bag out and changing into a thick pair of wool-lined leggings and a sweatshirt to sleep in. The temperature was already dropping, and Hawke shuddered, turning up her lantern a little brighter and sliding into the sleeping bag.

It didn't take long for Varric to join her. As he unrolled his pack beside her, he said, "The others are in their tents, but there's been a development." Hawke turned onto her side to meet his gaze, and Varric murmured, "The oxmen just informed us that there will be one of them in all of our tents. I guess they're worried we'll run if left unchecked."

"What?" Hawke asked, not sure why it surprised her. She shook her head and glanced at Varric's other side. She'd thought they would have a night to themselves before the thaig.

Varric shrugged and leaned down to press his lips to hers. As if sensing her thoughts, he whispered, "Think we can make it quick?"

Hawke smirked, mouth rising to his, tongue caressing his lower lip. "I think we can make it work, Tethras."

Varric didn't bother with the lantern, but Hawke managed to turn the brightness down before Varric was on top of her, pulling her sweater off and tracing his mouth along the curve of her ribs, down the slope of her abdomen, and to the hem of her leggings. He tore them off without care of the stitches, mouth instantly falling to her center. She gasped and groaned, biting her lip to keep silent. Her hands curled into his hair, pulling him in, and he gladly followed her orders.

Hawke was getting close, but she pushed his forehead back and away, smirking. "I thought we were going to make this quick."

Varric chuckled, licking his lips and lowering his mouth to her thighs, kissing them between words. "So, Peaches, what would you rather be doing than having me between your legs?"

Hawke snorted and slid out from under him, fingers nimbly pulling his shirt off and undoing his jeans. Their combined efforts knocked his underwear off, and Hawke pushed him down onto the sleeping bag, tongue coaxing his cock. It stood to attention without much effort, and Hawke slid on top of it, groaning as she began a harsh, swift pace.

Varric's hands were on her breasts, fingertips digging into her flesh, biting pleasantly. Hawke angled herself downward, her hands on his shoulders to give him a better thrust directly into her g-spot. Hawke was panting, letting out of a soft keen when Varric's lips closed around her left nipple, teeth scraping across the swollen nub.

The tent flap parted, and Hawke stilled, gasping for breath as she watched their Qunari roommate slip into the tent. He glanced their way, completely uninterested, and began to roll his sleeping pallet out. Once he settled in, he looked over at them again. He said nothing, merely stared.

Hawke snorted, glancing down at Varric. His cock was flagging inside of her, and his eyes remained focused on the massive Qunari. When he finally looked up at Hawke, she shrugged nonchalantly. "Shall we?"

It was Varric's turn to puff his disbelief. He looked up at her, at her impish grin, and finally said, "Well, alright then."

Hawke slowly began to move again, flaming Varric's cock and desire. Instead of their forceful pace from before, Hawke maintained a sensual rhythm, her hips swiveling slow figure-eights over Varric, her pelvis rocking against him, pressing him into her g-spot. Varric gripped her waist tightly, panting and grunting with each circle of her hips.

Hawke ran her hands up her sides; over the healed scar tissue of her tattoo, over the sides of her breasts, over her face and into her hair. She was giving a show to the Qunari and Varric probably knew it, too, based on the way he was smirking at her. Varric reached up and put a thick hand around her throat, pulling her down into a rough kiss. "I never realized you liked an audience," he breathed against her ear, his hand tightening around her neck, testing. "Or that you'd be into Qunari."

Hawke groaned, pressing her throat against his hand a little harder. "Do either of those things surprise you, Tethras?" Her hips sped up.

"Not as much as you'd think," he chuckled breathlessly, biting her lower lip, teeth raking across the sharp dagger of her jaw.

"Does it make you jealous?" she pressed, somehow finally bold enough to ask the thing she'd been wondering for ages. Did Varric get jealous when he thought of her with others? "Any of it?"

Varric released her neck, and she pulled back to watch him, her pelvis raking against his in sharp, uneven strokes. He looked torn between two things - probably the truth and what he thought she wanted to hear. Finally, he murmured, "I'm happy if you're happy... so long as you keep coming home to me."

Hawke's heart fluttered. She sat up, hands on his chest, fingers in the coarse, thick hair there. She pressed into him harder, gasping as her release threatened to spill over her.

Varric wanted her to be free, but he also wanted to be the one always by her side.

Hawke came, a soft groan scraping through her throat. Varric pulled her down to him, lips on hers as he held her trembling face between his hands. His thrusts had slowed inside of her, caressing gently. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, his hot breath fluffing the short locks around her ear.

"Varric," she whispered, her passage tightening around his pulsing cock.

"Marian," he wheezed.

"At the risk of sounding like a damsel... you are my home now."

Varric tightened his arms around her as he orgasmed, panting in her ear, a hand fisting her hair and keeping her close. He came down slowly, the climax taking its time to rock its way through him. But when he did, he brushed Hawke's hair from her heavy-lidded face. "I knew you couldn't resist my charms," he tried to tease, his eyes swimming in awe and love.

The Qunari grunted something on the other side of the tent and Hawke stiffened, eyes widening. She had forgotten he was even there during the emotionally charged end to their coupling. "Andraste's ass," she muttered. Varric laughed and pulled her to his side, grabbing his blanket and covering them with it.


	17. Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke is reunited with her first love and agrees to work for the Qunari once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> Chapter Notes/Warnings: Enter Tallis.
> 
> This chapter's title song goes to ["Misery Business," by Paramore.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6SpLc7EXZIPpy0sVko0aoU) Please enjoy!

**Varric Tethras**

The thaig expedition had taken less time than Hawke had anticipated. Aside from the unending hoards of braindead darkspawn and dragonlings, the trip had been uneventful. Annoyingly so, according to Hawke; she had been so sure something terrible and exciting would happen in the thaig, but she had been mistaken. Varric was simply thankful they managed to get above-ground before the end of the week without major injuries or demon possessions.

Not to mention the sizable chunk of gem-encrusted gold jewelry they had found in the treasure vault with the Qunari artifact, the Tome of Koslun.

The drive to South Reach was equally quiet. The Qunari even seemed less hostile toward them since recovering the Tome. The journey was still mostly silent on their front, but their open disdain had been dialed down.

"The jet leaves tomorrow," one of the Qunari growled as they all piled out of the SUV at the entrance to the nicest hotel Hawke had been in for a while. "We will be leaving at eight in the morning. Be outside by 7:45."

And with that, the group was left to their own devices for the first time in almost two weeks. They stood in shell-shocked silence, staring at the revolving doors of the gold-and-red decked hotel. "I need a drink," Bethany breathed, and everyone moaned an agreement. And, even though they had been together for every moment of every day, the entire group moved, as one, into the hotel bar.

They hadn't even received their first drinks when Bethany approached Hawke and Varric's quiet nook of the dark, boozy room, her eyes wide and her face pale. "Marian."

Hawke was instantly on guard, getting to her feet and taking Bethany's arms in hers. "Bethany, are you alright? Maker, you look like you've seen a gh-"

"Long time no see, Mar."

Varric watched Hawke's shoulders tense. He looked around the women to find a gorgeous elf standing in front of them, her red hair falling in a pin-straight waterfall.

"Tallis?" Hawke breathed, releasing Bethany's shoulders. The younger Hawke fell back against the bar, watching the pair with thinly-veiled terror.

Varric slid out of the booth and was in the middle of asking Hawke to introduce him to her beautiful friend, but the elf was suddenly moving, wrapping her slender body around Hawke's lean muscle. Hawke's arms didn't hesitate; they encircled the elf, tightening. Varric watched, amazed, as his lover pulled the unknown elf into her arms, burying her face into the woman's red hair.

When Hawke pulled away, her eyes were wet. "Varric," she began, clearing her throat and wiping a finger across her lower lids, "this is Tallis. The first person I ever loved."

Tallis grinned and looked up at Hawke, her emerald eyes sparkling. "Awww, Mar. You always were the romantic type."

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Tallis had grown up mischevious and beautiful. Hawke had expected the latter, given that Tallis had been drop-dead gorgeous even at her most awkward. The mischievousness, however, was an unexpected development. While Tallis had always been opinionated, she had also been beaten down, emotionally speaking, by her overbearing parents.

"I thought you were in Tevinter?" Hawke murmured finally. They had snagged a table in the back of the bar, a secluded spot for them to catch up while the others pretended not to spy on them.

"That's what you want to start with?" Tallis smirked, sipping her vodka. At Hawke's hard look she held up her hands in a surrendering motion. "Alright, alright. Yes, my parents shipped me off to Tevinter for school. I've been traveling since I graduated."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Traveling where? Why didn't you ever return my calls? Andraste's ass, Tallis, I-" she broke off, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat.

Tallis sobered, her smile fading. "I... I didn't think it was a good idea; calling you, I mean. Things have changed. I'm not the same person I was then."

"Neither am I, but I still wanted to try," Hawke breathed, leaning forward. "That's a dumb excuse."

Tallis opened her mouth and closed it, looking down at her tumbler. "Look, Mar, I spent some time in Par Vollen." Her eyes narrowed a bit. "I converted."

Hawke stared at her for so long that her vision began to waver. And then she laughed. She tried not to laugh, but hearing the first person she'd ever loved had converted to the Qun - it was comical.

Tallis, however, didn't seem to find it as humorous as Hawke did. She bit the inside of her cheek at watched Hawke's reddened face until the human stopped giggling long enough for Tallis to say, "I'm serious, Marian. I've never been so serious about anything in my life."

Hawke's mirth faded, and she took a long pull from her whiskey, not even feeling the burn as it traced down her throat. "That's why you're here. You heard about the expedition."

Tallis smiled softly. "Yeah, basically. And I was hoping to steal you for a second mission while you're here."

Hawke groaned, head falling into an upturned palm. "Tally-"

"Come on, Mar," Tallis interrupted, leaning across the table, eyes shining and impish. _"Come on,_ how great would it be to work together? This mission has all the perks and none of the downsides of working with the Qunari; courtly intrigue, good food, better wine, and making fun of Orlesians!"

Hawke hated that all of those things piqued her interest. "What's the catch, Tallis, or do your bosses plan on paying us to take a semi-relaxing vacation?"

"Don't worry about the details," Tallis said quickly. "You're just going to need to help with a few small, _super small,_ distractions while we muck around a charity fundraiser in Orlais."

Hawke made a face and leaned back in her booth, the leather squeaking under her thighs. "I can't agree to anything unless my team is in, too."

Tallis looked confused. "Hawke, we only need you."

Hawke shook her head. "We all go, or none of us do."

Tallis made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat and glanced behind her toward the bar. The others quickly pretended to be speaking to one another, talking over the others in a sudden cacophony of noise. Tallis sighed and looked back at Hawke. "You can bring two of them. Preferably the humans; having one elf there will raise enough suspicion. The others are on a flight back to Kirkwall in the morning."

"Give me a minute," Hawke grumbled, getting to her feet.

Tallis grabbed her wrist as she passed and smiled softly. "I've missed you, Mar."

Hawke tried not to let the words affect her, but her stomach fluttered uncomfortably for a moment. She finally nodded, murmuring, "Me, too." She pulled free of the elf and made her way to the others, leaning against the bar between Fenris and Varric. "Alright, who wants to come with me to Orlais to help the Qunari again?"

"Again?" Isabela repeated, looking horrified. "We're helping them _again?_ Puppy, I like money as much as the next girl, but isn't helping the Qunari a treason-level offense right now? Aren't we at war with them?"

"Depends on who you ask," Varric murmured, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

"I'm not going," Fenris said simply, downing his wine and signally for another. "The only thing worse than Orlesians is the Vints, and she's one of them."

"How did you know-" Hawke began before the obvious occurred to her. "Bethany."

Bethany flinched and tried to smile. "Sorry, Sister."

"So, who else is coming?" Hawke sighed.

"Not I," Isabela said, pushing off of the bar. "As much as I love making Orlesians gasp in distaste at my superior beauty and fashion sense, I want nothing more than to get home and get rip-roaring drunk with all of that gold the Arishok has for me."

Hawke smirked and turned her gaze to Bethany. "What do you say? You in?"

Bethany glanced back at Tallis before lamenting, "I suppose I should be there to make sure you don't get into trouble." She shot Hawke a pointed glare at the last word.

Varric hummed a soft little tune before nodding. "You know I'll follow you to the ends of the world, Peaches. Even if I think this is more trouble than it's worth."

Hawke couldn't help the smile that stretched her face at that. "Alright then. Tomorrow morning Varric, Bethany and I will join Tallis on a flight to Orlais. Isabela, you and Fenris will accompany our other Qunari friends back to Kirkwall to collect our reward." She kissed Varric's cheek before rejoining Tallis at her table. "Okay, we're set."

Tallis finished her vodka and nodded. "I'll let the guys know." Before Hawke could leave the table, Tallis asked, "So. What happened to Marian Hawke after I left? The stuff not online, I mean."

Hawke knew what she meant and wasn't sure how to answer at first. Finally, she murmured, "She grew up, fled the Blight, and found some people she could trust in Kirkwall."

Tallis' smile widened. "Like your business partner?"

Hawke sighed and cast a glance toward Varric. He was still nursing his whiskey, looking content. And yet he was swirling his alcohol around in its glass, his gaze far-off, his smile distant. "Yeah. Him especially."

Tallis got to her feet and leaned over the table, kissing Hawke's lips softly. "For not being able to say goodbye properly." Another kiss fell, and Tallis added, "That one's for looking so beautiful it took my breath away." She passed a keycard Hawke's way, winking.

And then the elf was leaving, her slender hips swaying as she left the bar without a backward glance. Hawke wiped her mouth off on a napkin, the pink stain of Tallis' lipstick left in its wake, and got to her feet. She pocketed the keycard, knowing she wouldn't use it, and made her way to the counter. Isabela, Fenris, and Bethany had retired to their rooms, filtering out as Tallis did, and left Varric alone at the bar. Hawke joined him there, sitting beside him and motioning for two refills. She glanced over at him, taking a moment to study the sharp curve of his jaw and the thicker-than-usual stubble there. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he replied, his lips twitching upward. "Was that as awkward as it looked?" He accepted his second drink and passed a tip across the bar, finally turning his honeyed gaze onto Hawke.

"It was pretty damn awkward," she confirmed, sipping her second tumbler. "I never thought I'd see her again, let alone that she'd be following the Qun."

Varric clicked his glass against hers. "To first loves. I guess we've both met one another's."

Hawke snorted and glanced down at her lap. "Bianca was your first love?"

"Yeah," Varric said softly, staring at the bartop. "We met in college. She was everything I'd never realized I wanted; smart, smarter than me, and endlessly enthusiastic. She could tell me about everything involved in mechanical engineering and never stop being excited about it. She could show me designs and tell me how bridges got made, what made them structurally sound, and none of it would make sense... but I loved listening to it just the same."

Hawke's smile grew as he spoke, imagining a young, nerdy Bianca. She waited for Varric to continue but he didn't, so she cleared her throat and said, "Tallis and I were best friends first. We met in kindergarten, and we just glommed on to one another from the beginning. Neither of us was particularly popular, but we weren't isolated, either. But in high school, things started changing. One day we were sitting in the tree in my backyard on our phones, not saying a word, and the next we were kissing. I got so many splinters in my ass," Hawke laughed as she wiped her lower lids again. "She was the world to me; she was my everything. And then she was gone."

Varric's hand found hers, and he squeezed. "Go get her back. Reconnect."

Hawke hated Varric for a moment. He was so accepting - he just wanted her to have everything she desired. Everything he _thought_ she desired. She bit back the sudden and unwarranted anger and leaned in to press her lips to his. "The only thing I want to reconnect with tonight is shaved legs, cotton sheets, and you."

Varric's smile was mischevious and lit Hawke's heart on fire. Drinks forgotten, irritation forgotten, Varric took her hand and pulled her out of the bar and toward the front desk to get their room keys.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric turned his phone on during the layover between Redcliffe and their final destination, Val Rouyeux. He tried not to notice how Tallis would lean in to whisper something to Hawke with stunning regularity. What could she possibly have to whisper so often? Varric sighed and glanced down as his phone screen lit up, displaying missed texts.

 _Rivaini 12:43 pm_  
Hey, we got in. Collected the reward from Arishok guy, 2. Left Pup and ur payments in ur apartment.  
_Rivaini 12:46 pm_  
Also paid ur rents out of ur shares.  
_Rivaini 01:01 pm_  
Also ur new plant is dead.

 _Me 01:37 pm_  
Thanks, Rivaini. We are in Redcliffe, should be in VR by midnight.

The other texts were from Bianca.

 _Bee 10:13 am_  
Did you make it? I haven't heard anything about plane crashes, so I assume you did.  
_Bee 10:14 am_  
Be careful out there. I don't trust Orlesians further than I can throw them. Which isn't very far.  
_Bee 10:16 am_  
Take care of Peaches. Big cities make girls starry-eyed.

 _Me 01:39 pm_  
Made it. I'll let you know when we get into VR.

 _Bee 01:42 pm_  
Is everything okay?

Varric chuckled under his breath, typing a quick affirmative and sliding his phone into his pocket. Was everything okay? Hardly. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that bothered him so much, but he knew it had something to do with Tallis. Possibly the way Hawke looked at her out of the corner of her eye when she thought no one was looking. Possibly the wistfulness that slipped into Hawke's tone the previous night at the bar when she talked about the redhead.

It was stupid; Varric knew it was stupid. Even so, it didn't stop his teeth from clenching when Tallis popped out of her terminal chair and tugged Hawke up, saying, "Pretzels! We need pretzels! Oh, Mar, remember those pretzels Auntie Rehn used to make?"

Hawke grinned, seeming lost in the thought. "Why couldn't she have been your mom?"

"No shit," Tallis laughed as she dragged Hawke away. "But then I would have been fat by seventeen. Have you ever seen fat elves?"

The women disappeared toward the long line of food shops, and Varric looked back down at his phone. He knew it was stupid. He knew he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Even so, something had happened that night in Bianca's guest room. They had talked about kids. They had held one another. Something unspoken but undeniably real had passed between them and, for some reason, Varric had thought it meant more than it evidently did.

Varric pulled up his texts again and sent to Bianca,  _Can we talk tonight? Late, we won't be in until midnight or later._

 _Bee 01:53 pm_  
Sure, I can slip away for a bit. You sure everything is okay?

 _Me 01:55 pm_  
Yeah, we'll talk later.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Varric had left the room while Hawke was in the shower. When she came out, rubbing her hair off and dripping water all over the plush Orlesian rugs, she glanced through the decadent room in search of him. She even checked behind the curtains, no doubt giving any passerby who happened to look up a clear view of her heat-flushed body.

She decided not to dwell on it and moved toward her bag, shuffling through it to find her moisturizer. As she was applying it to her legs, the door opened, and Varric came in with a bottle of brandy and two tumblers sporting the hotel's name on them.

"You wouldn't believe who I had to jerk off to get this," was his greeting, joined by an impish grin.

"Hopefully just yourself," Hawke giggled, sliding onto the bed, not bothering to find something to wear. Varric would have just tried to take it off at the first opportunity, anyway. "It's a little late for drinking, isn't it?"

"It's never too late for drinking," Varric admonished her as he unscrewed the cap of the brandy and poured the amber liquid into the glasses. "Besides, we're celebrating."

"Celebrating?" she echoed, taking the glass he handed to her. She clinked hers with his, sipping, and then wheezing. One thing could be said about Orlesians - they didn't fuck around when it came to fine liquor. "What do we have to celebrate?"

"Everything," Varric hummed. "We're in Orlais, drinking the best brandy made, and surrounded by more opulence than a single person can fathom."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him. "You hate Orlais and opulence."

"True enough," he chuckled, coming to stand before her. He spread her legs gently, standing between them, his free hand on her waist. "But I do love alcohol. And I'm sharing it with the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

Hawke knew she was blushing because Varric always got a glimmer in his eye, and a twitch of his lips, whenever she did. He loved making her squirm, especially when he did so via compliments. "You're so full of shit," she murmured, taking a deep pull from her brandy and finishing it in a single, burning gulp.

Varric finished his glass and took hers, placing them both on the coffee table before returning to her. She expected a corny come-on or something of that nature. She hadn't expected him to wrap his arms around her, burying his face into her neck and breathing her in. He made no move that would indicate desire. He just held her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, a hand resting on the back of Varric's neck, her nails scratching gently across the wisps of hair that fell out of its bindings.

"It's getting better," he replied vaguely, his arms tightening. "Just never expected to miss paperwork so much."

Hawke knew it wasn't the real answer, but she pretended; she was getting good at pretending. She pulled back slightly to press her lips to his, tenderly caressing his jaw in both hands. When she pulled back, she offered him a soft smile. "It's been a long day. Sleep?"

He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes fluttering closed. "Sleep."

 

* * *

 

Hawke looked at herself in the floor-length mirrors and scowled. "Is this necessary?"

"Mar, it's a political charity ball. What do you think?"

Hawke sighed and narrowed her eyes at her reflection. She allowed herself to be completely honest - the dress did look fantastic on her hips and ass. It didn't draw attention to her small breasts. It showed off her strong collarbone and shoulders with the off-the-shoulder cut, and the mermaid style train flowed around her calves like a dream.

She looked good. She looked better than good.

Hawke sighed again, trying not to let it show she was beginning to get excited about this mission. She left the fitting room and found Bethany and Tallis adjusting their own gowns, cooing over them. When they turned to Hawke, though, Bethany's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my."

"That bad?" Hawke smirked, her left hip jutting out. She knew how fantastic it had to look.

Tallis' gaze lingered, hot and heavy, on her for a beat longer than it should have. When the elf finally raised her gaze to meet Hawke's, her green eyes were hungry. "I knew red was still your color."

Hawke cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable, and turned her attention to Bethany. Her younger sister's dress was much more conservative; a thin-strapped, dark blue number that swept around her in soft satin. She looked effortlessly beautiful, which made sense given how effortlessly beautiful she always was.

"Bethy, that dress is perfection," she sighed happily, going to her sister and running a hand along her embroidered bodice. "You look lovely."

Bethany blushed and looked at her reflection again, angling herself to attempt to see the back. Tallis chuckled and teased, "I'm beginning to think you don't like my choice, Mar. Not even a word?"

Hawke swallowed down her urge to run. Tallis looked good, of course. Tallis could be wearing a burlap sack and look good. But the short, chiffon dress was the color of springtime leaves and made her hair and pale skin stand out in contrast. Hawke steeled herself and managed a, "You always look good, Tally," before turning her attention back to Bethany. "Well, are we all happy? Can we take this nonsense off and get lunch?"

Bethany giggled. "You're always hungry, Marian."

Hawke shrugged her shoulder, loving how the soft dress' material slid against her skin. "What can I say, I'm a growing girl."


	18. Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke runs into trouble, Tallis takes things too far, and Varric finally tells Hawke that things are changing between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
> Chapter Notes/Warnings: Dubious consent, oral sex.
> 
> This chapter's title song goes to ["Always Been You," by Quinn XCII.](https://open.spotify.com/track/76WepEyeRZgdtY6ixD5SyQ) Please enjoy!

**Varric Tethras**

Varric hadn't seen much of Hawke since the group arrived at the hotel hosting the charity ball and auction. Tallis ushered Hawke and Bethany to her room immediately, the elf citing _girl preparations_ as the reason for their haste. That had left Varric to his own room - an over-the-top suite with a view of the Waking Sea.

Just as Varric was preparing to change into his ostentatious tux, his phone buzzed. He half expected it to be from Hawke - maybe a sneak-peek at her makeup or dress - but it wasn't.

 _Bianca 06:41 pm_  
Have you told her yet?

 _Me 06:42 pm_  
Not yet.  
_Me 06:44 pm_  
We've been a little busy with this Orlais shit. Oh, and her ex-girlfriend. So there's that.

 _Bianca 06:45 pm_  
You need to tell her. The sooner you do, the less stressed you'll be.

 _Me 06:48 pm_  
I know. I'll talk to her once we're back in Kirkwall.  
_Me 06:49 pm_  
Rather not spring something like that on her while we're out here. Could get awkward. At least in Kirkwall we can hide from one another.

 _Bianca 06:50 pm_  
It won't come to that.

 _Me 06:52 pm_  
I hope you're right.  
_Me 06:53 pm_  
I need to get ready.

 _Bianca 06:55 pm_  
Knock em dead.

Varric locked his phone and dressed quickly. Hawke and Bethany had picked out his tie, a bright cheerful red, a painful reminder of some of Hawke's words in Kirkwall. _Red is definitely your color._

He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about her. Things were already too weird, too out of his depth, to face them at that moment. He was in the middle of a mission - one for the Qunari, no less - and he was supposed to be a pleasant, charismatic distraction for Tallis to do her thing. He couldn't be bogging himself down with the conversation he needed to have with Hawke.

Varric tried not to fidget in his black shirt and jacket incessantly, but the cut was just slightly wrong in the arms. Too tight. Most surface dwarves, especially Orlesian ones, were more stocky than less muscular - it made things hard on Varric when he was forced to go shopping on a time limit. The one thing Varric didn't want was more time in a boutique being measured and fitted. The pants had fit without alteration, though, so Varric decided to take what little victories he could.

He made it to the elevator without seeing another person and let out a soft sigh. He was running late, but he doubted it mattered. Orlesians and their games; running late was better than being early on most occasions. The elevator slid closed and spirited him up to the top floor's Grand Ballroom. He steeled himself for the coming night and forced a smile, throwing the double doors open and striding inside.

There were already too many people in the room for his comfort. A few cast him confused glances, while others seemed to recognize him immediately. He assumed it was due to the now-nine-year-old romance novel he'd released in Orlais. It had done so well that Varric could have feasibly lived off of the royalties without starving, had he not joined the family business. As it was, some of the older women in the crowds noticed him and tittered.

Varric grinned at a handful of them but made his way toward the bar, sitting beside a beautiful woman with dark hair and bronze skin. "I absolutely despise these things," he said with a grin when she glanced his way.

She was lovely and dressed in a fetching gold sheath that accented her dark eyes. When she spoke, Varric realized why he recognized her; she was the Antivan ambassador to Orlais - Josephine Montilyet. "I don't know; I find it fun to watch the others as they slowly descend into drunkenness." She offered her hand to him, her charming smile widening. "Josephine Montilyet."

"You need no introduction," he purred, layering on the charm and watching her cheeks glow as he shook her hand. "Varric Tethras, one-time author, and current philanthropist. Strickly lucrative ventures, though; I'm not really one for charities."

"Interesting place to spend the night, then," she chuckled, taking her hand back to sip her wine. "Tell me, what is a one-time author and lucrative philanthropist doing at a charity event?"

"It was my girlfriend's idea," he lied effortlessly in a conspiratorial whisper. "She's a sucker for fancy dresses and spending her money on things she doesn't need."

Josephine looked torn between frowning and smiling when her gaze passed by him and toward the door. Her dark eyes widened, and she looked genuinely enraptured. When Varric turned to see what she was looking at, he understood immediately. Hawke, Bethany, and Tallis had come in at some point and were in the middle of fending off admirers. It didn't matter that no one knew who they were - they were dressed like starlets and had the faces to match. If there was one thing politicians loved more than themselves, it was beautiful, ethereal creatures.

Hawke's dress hugged her in all of the right places, the material flowing out at the knees, swirling around her like ocean eddies. And then Varric noticed that her dress matched his tie. The realization made his heart stutter.

"That's her," Varric sighed, unable to keep the grin from his face as he leaned back on the bar. Josephine still looking stunned; she evidently had never mastered the Game. "Hard to believe she's most happy when she's mucking through caves, huh?"

Before Josephine could answer, Hawke's eyes met Varric's through the crowd. She quickly disentangled herself from her admirers and made her way toward them, her hips swinging exaggeratedly. Varric held back a groan as his cock twitched. He knew he should have masturbated before the event; he knew something like this would happen. Somehow, Hawke managed to twist him up with the simplest thing.

He was able to keep his wits about him, though. Hawke came to stand beside him, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek before turning her icy blue gaze to Josephine. "Miss Montilyet! I heard you would be here. How is Orlais treating you? I can't imagine it's as pleasant in the winter as Antiva."

Josephine flushed, but she didn't stammer when she replied, "I certainly do miss the winters back home, but I go home fairly regularly." She cleared her throat before putting a hand to her mouth, looking mortified. "I am so sorry! You know my name, but I have no idea-"

Josephine broke off when Hawke smiled, flashing her perfect teeth. Varric always wondered how she had managed such a flawless grin. "Marian Hawke. I'm a no one, really. I just jump into caves and bring back artifacts."

"Oh!" Josephine exclaimed. "You must be donating one of these on display, then?"

Varric took over; Hawke was good at most things, but lying was not one of them. "Exactly. But tell me, Ambassador, do you plan on spending any money tonight?"

"Anything, in particular, catching your fancy?" Hawke added, leaning in a bit and giving a clearer view of her cleavage through the low-cut neck of her dress.

Josephine, the innocent thing she was, let her eyes wander for a moment before snapping them back to Hawke's face. "I... I wasn't planning on participating tonight. There are many good items," she added quickly, "but I'm not sure what I would do with anything I bought."

"Fair enough," Hawke murmured, flagging the bartender down and requesting a glass of wine. "I heard some rumblings about a vase of some sort. Something from Tevinter?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard that one is beautiful," Josephine murmured. "But I've heard it might also not be quite as... _noble_ as the auctioneer claims."

"A fake made it in here?" Varric asked in a conspiratorial whisper. "Color me intrigued."

"I really don't know anything about it," Josephine said, flushing at her faux-pas. "It is just a rumor I overheard."

Hawke took her wine glass from the bartender and kissed Varric's cheek again before taking Josephine's hand. "My little sister is looking overwhelmed, I should probably go save her from that smarmy politician, or she might go missing. It was wonderful to meet you, Miss Montilyet."

And then Hawke was off, leaving Varric and Josephine to watch her ass as she disappeared into the crowd. Varric snapped out of his daydream - one involving Hawke's shapely curves under his hands - before Josephine did. "Well, it was a pleasure, Miss Ambassador. I should probably see what other docket items there are so I can steer Hawke clear of the fakes."

Josephine laughed politely and shook his hand goodbye. Varric moved deeper into the crowd, speaking with dowagers and young women who either recognized him or were fascinated by his charms. Most of them had no idea about the items up for auction, choosing to be there mainly for the elbow rubbing, but one matron did murmur, "I don't understand why a belt would be added to the docket so late."

"A belt?" Varric repeated, leaning closer. "What kind of belt would be worth anything at an auction?"

She snorted in agreement. "It is made of wyvern skin, but that hardly means much. I have a wyvern clutch, and it is simply not auction-level material. Not nearly worth the money spent to get it in here, in fact."

Varric said his goodbyes before making his way toward the thickest circle of people. He found Hawke in the middle of it, as he knew he would, and touched her bare arm gently, murmuring, "How about a drink?"

Before they could make it far, a man with a camera inserted himself before them, smiling thinly. "A picture, Monsieur Tethras?"

Varric stifled a groan and smiled charmingly. "Only if the lady can join me. You know what they say; a gorgeous girl can make anyone look more attractive."

Hawke snorted and bent at her knees, pressing her lips to his temple. "You must be joking, Varric, because you are clearly the belle of the ball here."

Varric glanced at her, at her perfect smile and the crinkle of her eyes. The photographer snapped the shot; Orlesians loved candids, and Varric could only imagine how good that one looked.

They posed for a few more photos before Varric offered Hawke his arm and said to the man, "That has to be enough pictures. Any more and I'll start to think you're trying to steal our souls."

Hawke gratefully hooked her arm into his, bidding adieu to the photographer, and the pair slipped toward the closest dark corner. "Find anything?" she asked in an undertone, sitting down in a chair and wincing. "These damned shoes are going to be the death of me."

Varric didn't mention that he would be more than willing to massage her feet once the night was over - or that he would be willing to do anything she wanted to any part of her. He kept himself focused on the mission because he knew that if he didn't, the night would end with a stain in his new pants and possibly a viral video of the display on every social media outlet there was. "A wyvern belt got added to the docket tonight, right before the event. One of the women here seemed to think it wasn't worth being added; something about having a wyvern clutch and it not being that fashionable or pricey."

Hawke worried her lower lip. "Sounds more plausible than anything else. But what does a wyvern belt have to do with the Quna-"

Before she could finish her thought, Tallis slid in beside them, her short green and gold pleated dress floating around her knees like a cloud. "Find anything?"

"Wyvern belt is our best guess," Hawke replied simply.

Tallis nodded, glancing back at the crowds of people slowly milling toward the partitioned area of the room where the auction was due to start. "Bethany mentioned something about a vase, but the belt makes more sense. Easy to sew in a pocket, easier than making a false-bottom to a vase."

"What, exactly, are we after here?" Hawke asked, voicing the thing that had been troubling Varric the entire time.

Tallis worried her lower lip before murmuring, "The less you know-"

"Tally."

Tallis sighed. "Fine. We're after a flash drive."

"A flash drive of what?" Varric pressed.

"The names, addresses, phone numbers, bank accounts, and family members of every undercover Qunari agent in Thedas."

Hawke wheezed, her eyes wide. "Every-"

"We're drawing attention," Varric murmured in an undertone, taking Hawke's arm and gently drawing her out of the chair. "Tallis, perhaps you should head into the auction? We'll blend."

Tallis didn't seem to like the plan but nodded anyway. "Keep an eye out. Things could get messy if I outbid the intended buyer."

"And if you don't outbid them?" Varric asked.

She smirked. "Then things will get really, really messy."

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Things had gotten decidedly messy.

"So... that didn't go according to plan," Tallis breathed, watching as most of the dignitaries moved toward the orchestra for drunken dancing. Her eyes were following a young, handsome Tevinter man in a smart tuxedo and blue gems in his ears. He had spoken with Hawke at length earlier in the night but had seemed distracted. Now Hawke knew why.

"It seems a little silly that your bosses didn't give you enough money to outbid that asshole," Varric hummed. Bethany nodded her agreement, downing her fourth glass of wine of the hour.

"Four hundred royals for a belt," Hawke mused, taking Bethany's glass and finishing the last dregs.

"Four hundred royals for the safety of all of our agents - me included," Tallis groaned. Her green eyes moved to Hawke, forcing a smile. "Here's where you really come in."

Hawke stared at the elf blankly before her eyes widened in understanding. "No."

"Mar, you have to," Tallis breathed, reaching out to put a hand on her elbow. "I need this. I need you."

Hawke deflated, suddenly wishing she had more wine. She handed the empty glass back to Bethany, who still looked confused, before turning her eyes to Varric. His mouth was in a terse line, the muscle in his temple pulsing. "What, exactly, do you need?" Hawke sighed, knowing the answer before Tallis gave it.

"A honeytrap."

"Maker's fucking balls," Hawke muttered venomously.

"I put something in your clutch to make things easier," Tallis continued. "I promise, you won't need to do anything you don't want to do. A little needle stab, and he's down for the count."

Hawke's eyes followed the man as he strode past them and toward the collection table. She brushed a hand down her stomach, smoothing away invisible lint. "Fine."

She didn't look at the others as she sauntered toward the collections table. She especially didn't look at Varric; she could only imagine the frown darkening his face. Hawke was walking into the den of a beast she could only guess at; a Vint with Qunari secrets and a penchant for dark-haired women in red. Hawke knew things could go horribly wrong the moment she left with the man. Varric knew it, too.

Hawke tried not think about it as she placed a hand on the man's back, a smile twisting her lips. "I have to admit; I'm impressed you spent all that money on a gift for me."

The man's cold, dark eyes turned to her, and he grinned wolfishly. "Who said it was for you?" he teased, leaning into her. He smelled like sandalwood. "Though, I wouldn't say no to seeing you try it on."

Hawke grinned and fluttered her lashes. "I wouldn't say no to the opportunity, either. Lead the way, handsome."

 

* * *

 

Things had gotten decidedly messier.

Hawke was quick to wriggle back into her dress, her hands shaking. She reached for the syringe jammed into the unconscious man's neck, dropping the bloodied needle into her clutch and letting out a shaky breath.

Hawke glanced around the room for any signs she had been there. The nightstand was askew from where the man had shoved her into it, taking her flirtations as an invitation for getting rough. Hawke righted it, trying to ignore how her hip was complaining from where it had collided with the wooden corner. The wall had a red smudge of her lipstain on it, and no matter how much Hawke scrubbed, it would not come off. She pushed back the memory of him forcing her against the wall, her left arm wrenched behind her back at an angle she didn't think was possible without breaking it. The contents of her clutch - her identification card, her passport, and her cosmetics - had scattered around the room when she had attempted to grab the syringe before the man could hit her again. She quickly collected as many items as she could find, too frazzled to remember if there were others.

The bed was rumpled from where the man had fallen. There was a slight pinprick of blood on his neck, which Hawke quickly cleared away. Hopefully, he would assume he'd passed out drunk. Hopefully, he wouldn't remember her at all. Unlikely, but Hawke needed the assumption to keep her calm.

She grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and quickly wiped down every surface she could remember touching - willfully or otherwise. Hawke was shaking by the time she left the room, shoving the washrag into her clutch, feeling the belt chafe against her skin under the dress. She made it to Tallis' floor without incident, wondering if there were cameras in the halls. There had to be cameras. Would anyone think to check the cameras if the man reported her?

Tallis opened the door quickly when Hawke knocked. Her mouth was open, her face relieved - and then she blanched. "Mar, what happened?"

Hawke blinked at her, not understanding. Now that she was away from the man's room, home free, her head felt like it was swimming.

Tallis took her arm and pulled her into the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. The elf sat her down on the bed before running into the bathroom, muttering to herself. Hawke wasn't sure if her brain was too muddled to understand, or if Tallis was speaking another language.

When the elf returned, it was with a vial that glowed a comforting green. "Here," she said, uncorking it and bringing it to Hawke's lips.

Hawke drank it down without even thinking about it. Luckily the familiar taste of elfroot flowed over her tongue. She felt her brain fog beginning to clear, and her hip suddenly didn't feel as though it was exploding. Hawke caught sight of herself in the gilded mirror in the corner and winced. Her cheek was a dark purple splotch, and her shoulder was turning yellow. "Maker, he did a number on me, didn't he?" Hawke was surprised to hear herself laugh at her words.

Tallis grimaced and sat on the bed beside her, running a hand through her crimson hair. They were both silent for a time, Hawke finally letting her breath slow, when Tallis murmured, "I hate to ask this, Mar, I really do, but... did you get it?"

Hawke wasn't sure what she had expected; a moment to breathe, perhaps. A moment of compassion, even. But that wasn't Tallis' way. Hawke got to her feet, her hip pinging gently, and wiggled out of her dress. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her thong was more of a decoration than underwear. She knew Tallis' eyes were lingering everywhere besides the slender wyvern-skin chord around her waist.

"There's a pocket sewn into the back, just like you said," Hawke sighed, unfastening the belt and handing it to Tallis. The elf turned her attention away from Hawke long enough to rip the false back off of the belt, a slim flash drive sliding into her lap. She let out a soft, pleased sound before moving to her bags, tucking the flash drive into a small pouch sewn into the bottom.

Hawke reached for her dress, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up with Varric in front of cheesy romance movies when Tallis returned to her. The elf put her hand on Hawke's, whispering, "Stay."

Hawke shook her head, but Tallis took the dress from her hands and sat her down on the edge of the bed. The elf, suddenly taller, tilted Hawke's face up to hers. "I didn't mean for that to happen," she breathed, pressing her lips to Hawke's jaw, right below the bruise. "I didn't know he'd... it doesn't matter. This shouldn't have happened."

 _It's fine,_ Hawke almost answered, but she didn't because it wasn't fine. The mission, the honeytrap, Tallis herself. Tallis took her silence to mean precisely what it did and let out a pained sigh. Her mouth moved to Hawke's, her hands sliding into her hair. Tallis' lips were softer than Hawke remembered. She remembered when they were chapped and rough from Tallis' anxious lip-chewing.

"Tallis," Hawke muttered, pulling back from her and shaking her head. "I can't. Varric... Please don't do this. I don't want this."

"Let me make it up to you," Tallis breathed, gently pushing Hawke back on the bed and climbing onto her waist.

"Tallis," Hawke muttered, trying to push her away. But her arms wouldn't move. Her hands wouldn't listen to her. She laid on the bed as Tallis kissed her, trailing her soft lips down her neck and sternum, across her breasts and down to her hips.

Hawke watched the ceiling as Tallis lowered herself between her legs. She remembered doing a similar thing with Isabela once; absently looking at ceiling tiles, unmoved by the attention the woman bestowed on her. It felt so long ago, but it had only been months. Months. How did Hawke keep falling into these situations? Ending up with people in her bed who she didn't want in her bed. Ending up with people who were sure of themselves, who knew themselves, who were comfortable in their skins. People who asserted themselves while she floundered, voiceless and lost.

 _Because they're everything you're not,_ Hawke realized. _Because they're self-assured and you're weak. You're so weak that you want everyone to want you - even if you don't want them back._

_So what do you want, Marian? What do you want, because it isn't this._

She swallowed, closing her eyes. Her hands had begun to shake; the first image to enter her mind was the Tevinter. His fists. His smirk. His teeth on her shoulder blade.

She let out a strangled cry, trying not to but unable to bite it back. Tallis, between her legs, seemed to think the noise meant something else because she doubled her efforts - efforts Hawke wasn't even paying attention to.

Hawke allowed her thoughts to turn to Varric. To the dwarf who was no-doubt sitting awake, wringing his hands and praying to the Stone or the Maker that she made it back. She needed to get back to him; she knew that much. She needed to see him, to feel his arms around her.

To feel safe.

Hawke's hands balled into fists, and she did something she hadn't done in nearly a decade. She faked an orgasm.

When Tallis pulled back from her, Hawke got to her feet and slid into her dress, muttering apologies that Tallis pretended didn't hurt her feelings. "I need a shower; I need to let Bethy know I'm okay," she was mumbling as she righted her dress. "I can't... I'm sorry, I can't."

Tallis forced a smile and reached out to her, brushing a hand across her undamaged cheek. "This is probably the last time we'll ever see each other. I hate that it was under these circumstances."

Hawke nodded and accepted Tallis' farewell kiss before fleeing the room.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric was attempting to keep his mind focused on everything besides Hawke; besides what Hawke might be doing at that moment. He tried not to think of her with the Tevinter man. He was an attractive human, as far as human males went, and somehow that made it worse. Though he would rather Hawke have something nice to look at while she was seducing someone to get Qunari top-secret information.

Varric laid the hotel stationary out in front of him, glowering at it. He hadn't written by hand in years; his laptop had replaced the good-old-fashioned pen close to a decade prior, and he hadn't looked back since. Even so, his computer was in Kirkwall, and he was in Orlais trying not to think about Hawke.

So, of course, he began to write about her.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Hawke entered their room at one in the morning, biting back tears. She found Varric asleep at the writing desk, a pen held loosely in his fingers and pages of stationary scattered around him. Hawke wondered about them briefly but pushed it aside, stripping out of her dress, kicking off her shoes, and falling to her knees beside his chair, her head on his thigh.

Varric was awake in an instant, his hands drawing her face up and whispering, "What happened? _Maker,_ Marian, what happened?"

Hawke strained her neck to press her lips to his, needing to feel him against her, needing to reassure herself that he was there. Varric pulled away too soon, his hands on her jaw and his eyes full of concern. "Marian, sweetheart, what happened?"

"It's... he was rough, and I didn't get to the sedative in time," she whispered, shaking her head to brush it aside. "It's fine-"

Varric's eyes hardened, and he pushed out of the chair, stumbling around her and heading toward the door. "Where is he?"

"No, Varric," Hawke moaned, turning on her knees. She had to look pitiful, sitting on the floor in only a slip of underwear, smudged makeup, and bruises. "Please don't go."

"Hawke-"

Hawke swallowed thickly, her hands beginning to tremble again. She was trying to push Tallis from her mind, she was trying to ignore it - but then the words came rushing out. "It's not him. It's not that. Tallis just... she wanted to -- _fuck,_ Varric, I told her no, but she did it anyway."

It was vague, but Varric seemed to understand immediately. His clenched fists relaxed, and the tension on his face faded from rageful to mildly troubled. He returned to her, taking her hands and leading her to the bed. "What happened?"

Hawke swallowed and looked away from him. "I hate this. I hate that I let this happen. I can't -- I can't keep doing this, Varric. With Isabela. With Tallis."

Varric was silent for a moment before asking, "With me?"

Hawke's eyes snapped to his. He looked calm - serene, even. He wasn't judging her. He wasn't mad. He was simply waiting. "What -- _no,_ Varric. Why would you -- _Maker,_ I don't-"

Varric cut her off with a gentle kiss that lingered, his lips fitting hers perfectly. The tension in her shoulders evaporated, and she wrapped her arms around Varric's neck. His hands were still on her face, caressing their way down to her neck and holding her close. He pulled away only slightly and whispered, "I love you."

Hawke's throat tightened. "I love you, too."

He chuckled softly, his forehead pressing into hers. "I was going to wait to tell you until we got to Kirkwall, but I guess since we're baring our souls tonight.... Bianca and I broke it off."

Hawke pulled back, eyes widening. "What? When -- shit, Varric, I'm so sorry."

Varric shook his head, thumb brushing her jaw. "I wanted it. I want it to be us; you and me against the world. I want this to be weird and messy. I'm ready for it if you are."

Hawke's throat hitched, her words failing her. Varric's expression was gentle, but she could see the edge of anxiousness there, too. He didn't know how she would react. He didn't know if she wanted the same thing.

He didn't know. Somehow.

Hawke let out a disbelieving huff, before whispering, "Andraste's ass, Varric. When did you -- how long have you known?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, pretending that his palms hadn't begun to sweat against her throat. "I guess since the first time we had dinner. Maybe it was the food, or the sea, or your brother's scowl, but I just knew."

Hawke leaned in, her lips pressing against his hard, her hands going to his unbound hair, gripping the strands as if they were her last lifeline. Their tongues struggled against one another, passionate and reckless, bumping teeth and nipping tongues. When Hawke finally broke free, she was gasping.

"I suppose that means you're in the same boat?" Varric chuckled breathlessly.

She pressed her face into his neck. "It's always been you, Varric. I was just too stupid to realize it sooner."

"We can't all be master visionaries of emotion."

Hawke snorted and pulled away from him, shinnying out of her underwear and moving toward the bathroom. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. "My shoulder's a little stiff. Want to help me wash up?"

"My pleasure," he replied with the same impish grin Hawke had first fallen in love with.


	19. Yellow Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings / Notes:** Explosion of the Chantry. Character death. Enter Cassandra.
> 
> This chapter's title song goes to the lovely -and depressing, naturally- ["Yellow Light," by Of Monsters and Men.](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZURRCb1lFN3fbFHXHHhUV) Please enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

_Blocked 11:24 am_  
The plane is leaving in an hour.  
_Blocked 11:25 am_  
Are you guys coming?

 _Me 11:32 am_  
Bethy is on her way. V and I are staying

 _Blocked 11:39 am_  
Alright.  
_Blocked 11:40 am_  
Hopefully he treats you right.  
_Blocked 11:42 am_  
You deserve more than you think.  
_Blocked 11:44 am_  
Sorry about last night. Didn't go how I thought it would.

 _Me 11:45 am_  
Bye Tally

 _Blocked 11:46 am_  
Bye, Mar.

Hawke locked her phone and Varric kissed her still-tender shoulder, a hand sliding over her arm. "I'm sorry, Peaches."

Hawke smiled faintly and leaned back into him, closing her eyes. "It's better this way." She pulled back only to turn over onto her belly, laying her head on his bare thigh, her eyes returning to the awful, sloppy romcom on the television. "Besides, now we can take our time getting back to Kirkwall."

"You did promise to show me some of the better parts of Ferelden," Varric murmured, absently smoothing his hand through her hair. "I think there was mention of a grotto somewhere?"

Hawke snorted, kissing his thigh. "I thought I told you the grotto was underground. We'd have to go into a half-flooded cave and everything."

Varric pulled her up to him, kissing the mostly-healed bruise on her cheek. His lips moved to her jaw, her chin, and then her mouth. When they parted, he murmured, "I'd follow you anywhere, Peaches."

"With no complaints?" she teased.

"I never promised _that._ My eloquent complaining is what makes me so endearing."

"Oh, is that it?" she chuckled, a hand sliding between his legs. "I think someone lied to you. It's definitely your chest hair. Your dick is a close second."

Varric smirked, tilting his head back as her hand caressed him. "It'd be rude of me to argue, I suppose."

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

They had just rented a car when Hawke froze in her tracks, turning away from the lot and their waiting sports car, her eyes trained on a flyer on the door to the rental office. "Varric."

"Peaches."

Her pale eyes turned to him, and her lips twitched upward at the corners. "What if I said we should stay in Orlais one more night?"

Varric almost stifled his groan, but it managed to slip out without his authorization. Even so, he humored her. "I'll bite. What do you have in mind?"

Hawke pointed at the flyer unhelpfully, and he joined her, peering at the lavish paper.

Niveau _Casino_  
_Enjeu Eleve - Tournoi de Wicked Grace_  
_100 Royals Prix à la Première Place_  
_10 Royals Achèterez_

Varric raised his eyebrow at Hawke. "I only understood four of those very frilly words."

Hawke was furiously typing into her phone as she distractedly replied, "Me, too, but those four I understood were pretty goddamn awesome. Casino, Wicked Grace, and money." She finished typing a grinned sloppily. "Well, well, it's our lucky night. As in, the high-stakes Wicked Grace tournament is literally tonight. What do you say, Tethras? Feeling like blowing some Royals before we skip town?"

Varric grinned and looped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward their waiting car. "You are so incredibly sexy when you're reckless."

She hummed her agreement, before purring, "Would me giving you head on our drive to the mall be reckless?"

Varric's heart stammered. How she did it to him, he would never understand. "Not sure, Peaches, we might need to test it out."

 

* * *

 

While the mall hadn't been Varric's original choice for spending the first afternoon of their impromptu vacation, he had to admit that the results of their shopping trip were stunning. Varric had planned on wearing the same tuxedo he had gotten for the fundraiser, but Hawke insisted on buying him something more fitting - a tailored navy button-down, one with ample room for his muscular arms, a pair of black trousers, and new black dress shoes.

"You realize you're not made of money, right?" he tried to tease her as she led him into a jewelry store, oohing and ahhing at the thousands of sparkling pieces. "Most of your money is still in Kirkwall, you know."

"Oh hush," she replied distractedly, eyes roving over a display of ruby-encrusted earrings.

Varric put a hand on the small of her back. He almost told her that he had pilfered a piece of jewelry from the Koslun mission, but a saleswoman chose that moment to accost them. "Let me guess, you're looking for the perfect ring," she gushed, mistaking Hawke's longing for the ruby and sapphire rings on display. "Quirky and fun, something that fits the relationship?"

Varric could have laughed at Hawke's wide, confused eyes, but he chose to do something better - torture her. "Exactly. My fiancee and I have been looking for something with all gemstones on it."

The woman looked perplexed. "With...?"

"All gemstones," he confirmed. He was amazed he was able to keep a straight face while the woman floundered, looking through the cases for something more realistic. By the time she arrived with two rings - one with garnets, sapphires, and emeralds, the other with diamonds surrounded by more colors than Varric could name - Hawke was on board with the game.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Varric asked, glancing at the rings. They were expensive, over-the-top, and hideous - typical Orlesian fashion.

Hawke scrunched up her nose. "Not enough intensity. I think there needs to be more blue in this one." She indicated the one surrounded by color.

"More -- Miss, there are sapphires and three types of lesser blue gems here," the woman tried to explain.

Hawke smiled sadly. "Sorry. Not blue enough."

Varric shrugged. "If it's not blue enough, I can't possibly ask her to marry me with it."

They left the shop and the poor, bewildered jeweler, trying not to snicker until they were out of ear-shot.

 

* * *

 

Hawke, of course, outdid him. It was something he'd grown accustomed to, but it still stunned him every time she entered a room and took his breath away. It had been nearly impossible to keep his eyes on the road when they drove to the casino. She seemed to know it, too, and would purposely shift, the hem inching up those thighs he wanted to bury himself between.

He'd seen the outfit when she bought it; it had seemed to be a simple, albeit small, black dress. On her, though, it was nothing less than perfection. The long-sleeved, ruched material clung to her all the way to her mid-thigh, giving a nearly indecent view of her shapely legs. The strappy crimson sandals and her matching clutch accented the dress perfectly and made Varric remember the red dress she'd worn the previous night.

The previous night. Varric felt his hands prickling with sweat at the memory of Hawke's wet eyes and bruised body. Luckily the hotel had elfroot elixirs in their gift shop; if they hadn't, if Varric had to see her battered hip and shoulder, he would have ignored her pleas and killed that fucking Tevinter asshole. Part of him wished he had anyway.

But their casino evening would be a much better night. No Qunari, no ex-girlfriend, no Tevinter asshole; just the two of them, fancy alcohol, and losing more money than advisable.

The valet took their car away, and Hawke looped her arm through Varric's, offering him a mischevious smirk. "Well, Tethras, do you think you'll get lucky tonight?"

He chuckled, guiding her through the glittering doors and into the crystal and golden casino. "I would certainly hope so - that dress is going to be the death of me otherwise."

One of Varric's favorite parts of teasing Hawke was watching her pleased blush spread across her cheeks. She was getting better about accepting his compliments, but there was still a part of her that didn't believe him. He could tell in the way she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, almost as if she was embarrassed. "You know what I meant. Win that first prize, and you can buy me a rainbow ring fit for the Empress."

Varric laughed, the force of it starting a few nearby Orlesians who scowled in their direction. "Peaches, you know I'll buy you whatever you want, but those rings were awful. Maybe something a little less haute, more you."

Hawke snorted, leaning into him as they approached the cordoned off back room labeled _Enjeu Eleve._ "Varric Tethras, if I didn't know better, I'd think you've thought about this. Please tell me this isn't your way of proposing?"

Varric stopped short of the door, pulling her into him. "Trust me, Peaches. When I propose, you won't need to ask." He relished her surprised expression for a moment before pulling her chin down, his lips catching hers. When they parted, Hawke's flush had darkened, and she looked light-headed. "What do you say? Ready to lose some money?"

She laughed, running a hand through her hair. "You know I can't bluff; I'll try some luck games out here." She kissed him, assuaging the sudden worry in the pit of his stomach. Her cheeky grin and her dimples made the concern melt away; as did the way she walked away, her hips swinging. She glanced back at him, winking and simpering.

Maker take him, he loved every blighted thing she did.

 

* * *

 

**Marian Hawke**

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call in her clutch while she absently tapped the _PARIER_ button, watching as the brightly colored images swirled and flashed on the slot machine in front of her. She hadn't even paid attention to how much money she had lost or earned; she was too busy thinking about Varric's flippant words. _When I propose._

Hawke sighed and pulled her phone out, glancing at the display. Blocked. Hawke's heart lurched for a moment, thinking it might be Tallis. Hawke hesitated, staring at the vibrating phone in her hand. Tallis wouldn't call. They had their goodbye, as uninspired and impersonal as it was.

Hawke answered the call, anxiously clicking PARIER again. "Hello?"

"Oh thank Andraste," Bethany breathed on the other side of the phone. She was panting and whispering, the combination making Hawke's body break into a cold sweat.

"Bethany, what's-"

"The Templars found us," Bethany whispered. She sounded as if she was moving through quicksand, voice muffled. "Found the base while Anders and I were out collecting materials on the coast. Maker, Hawke, he's... he's gone mad. He keeps shouting about justice and slamming cabinets, knocking things over, looking for something - _and glowing blue._  Marian, he's _glowing blue._ I... I don't know what to do."

Hawke's throat was suddenly dry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so fast that it made her dizzy, but she still somehow felt as if she was wading through a bog. "Bethany, where are you?"

"The sewers," she said. "I'm leaving the hideout now."

"Good," Hawke replied, ignoring the money still in the machine and getting to her feet. "Varric and I are going to get the earliest flight there. Stay away from him, Bethany."

"Obviously," she returned hotly before apologizing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm going to Fenris'."

"Not good enough," Hawke said quickly. "He knows where Fenris lives. Go to my place - fuck; you aren't registered for my apartment. Fuck!"

"Marian, calm down!" Bethany pleaded. "I am going to Fenris'; he and I will figure out a plan. I'll be careful, Sister," she insisted.

Hawke swallowed down every instinct she had. Bethany was a grown adult. Bethany could take care of herself. "Fine. Text me every hour, you understand? _Every_ hour."

Bethany sounded as if she almost laughed at Hawke's tone. "Yes, Sister." The girl hesitated for a moment, her breath stammering. "I love you, Marian."

"I love you, too, Bethy," Hawke wheezed. "Stay safe." But the last part was said to dead air.

Hawke ran to the high-stakes room, barreling through two security guards long enough to shout, "Varric! We need to go!"

Varric, to his credit, didn't hesitate. He threw his cards down and was taking her hand in his, pulling her away from the angry, sputtering security. He didn't say a word until they were in the rental car and two blocks away. "Are you okay? What happened back there?"

Hawke was shaking her head, clenching her fists over and over, trying to stem the tremors. "There was a Templar raid on the Resistance. I guess everyone but Bethany and Anders were rounded up. Bethany is terrified and said that Anders is losing his mind, screaming 'justice' or something. And glowing blue? I don't -- Varric, Bethany doesn't scare easily. She's terrified right now. "

"I know," Varric replied calmly, soothingly. He maneuvered the car through the Val Royeaux traffic as if he didn't have a care in the world. Hawke knew better, though; his temple twitched and his jaw set in a hard line. "We'll get a flight. Let's stop by the hotel, get some tickets lined up, and then we can go."

Hawke's head was swimming. It was not the time to panic, but that was all she wanted to do. She fumbled with her phone, wanting to text Carver, but then froze. Carver was a Templar now. Carver could have been in the raid. He had promised never to hurt Bethany, but what if he had no choice? What if he hadn't known? What if their zealot of a leader, Meredith, was monitoring his phone? Maybe he had wanted to warn her but couldn't?

She shoved her phone back into her clutch, digging her fingernails into the fleshy part of her palms, the pain focusing her mind. Varric was right. They needed to take things one step at a time. First, the hotel. Second, the airport. Third, Kirkwall.

 

* * *

 

The first non-stop flight to Kirkwall was at 11 am - much later than Hawke believed was possible. They arrived at the terminal at 5 am after an early morning of Hawke's pacing and Varric's attempts to soothe her. Nothing he said helped, of course, and he probably knew that it wouldn't. Even so, he had spent every hour trying.

Hawke had traded pacing in the hotel room for pacing in the airport terminal, wringing her hands and making other passengers watch her nervously. "Hawke, sweetheart, come sit down," Varric finally asked, patting the seat beside him. "You're not helping yourself." He winced, waiting for her rage at his presumptuous tone, at his ability to downplay every situation. But she didn't. With an exhausted sigh, Hawke sank into the seat and put her hands in her upturned palms. Varric rubbed her back soothingly. "Everything is going to be fine, Peaches. Blondie wouldn't do anything to hurt Sunshine."

They sat like that for an hour, Hawke's chest gradually loosening.

And then her phone rang. Hawke pulled it out of her pocket quickly. Fenris. Hawke answered it, breathing, "Fenris, where is she?"

"The Chantry. I'm staying here in case that asshole shows his face," Fenris growled. "Bethany wanted me to tell you where she was, and that she's safe. We got rid of her phone, just in case."

Hawke let out a relieved sigh. The Chantry. The place Bethany would always hide when she was a little girl. Her little sanctuary. "Thank you, Fenris. Really. We'll be back in town tonight; we're going to deal with him personally."

"I want in," was Fenris' sinister response.

"Just keep safe until then."

"If he shows his face, he dies," Fenris promised.

Hawke hung up without saying goodbye. Relief had swept through her, sweet and sharp, and left her arms trembling and her body exhausted. She slumped across the seat to lean on Varric, whispering, "She's safe. She's at the Chantry."

Varric ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face and kissing the top of her head. "Get some rest, Peaches. You can't tear down a city to take out a rogue mage on two days of sleeplessness."

Hawke snorted and closed her eyes, the scent of Varric's aftershave lulling her to sleep.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric had fallen into a deep doze, his arm around Hawke, her face on his clavicle and his chin on the top of her head. It wasn't the most comfortable position, and Varric's arm was beginning to go numb, but Hawke had only been asleep for an hour. He wasn't about to willingly wake her.

Until the intercom buzzed and a panicked voice came over the speaker. Varric couldn't understand a word the woman was saying, but the fright in her voice was genuine.

Hawke stirred, blinking blearily. "What's she saying?"

"I have no idea," Varric replied, watching the faces of those around them for some kind of clue. Some, tourists like them, looked befuddled; others looked horrified. "What's going on?" Varric asked the closest one, an older man whose face was drawn up in disbelief.

The man didn't answer, and Varric turned to find someone else to ask when he caught sight of Hawke. She was staring past him, glassy-eyed and far off. Varric turned to follow her gaze and felt his heart stop. One of the televisions was playing a news report that featured the images of a smoking crater. And then Varric read the most heartbreaking words he'd ever seen.

_BREAKING NEWS: KIRKWALL CHANTRY EXPLOSION_  
_At Least 74 Dead - One in Custody_

"No," Hawke whispered. "No... no, Varric. This... I can't...."

"We don't know anything yet," he insisted, grabbing her face and turning it to look at him. "Marian, listen to me. We don't know anything yet. Fenris could have gotten her out. She might have left on her own."

"Varric," she mumbled, eyes raising the television again. He watched her face screw up, her brow furrowing. "Varric, it was him."

Varric turned to see Anders, sporting a bullet to his shoulder and bruises decorating his face. His eyes were burning a brilliant blue. Varric had expected him to sneer at the reporter filming him, but he didn't. He looked perplexed. He looked as if he wasn't sure how he had gotten there, while also being resigned to his fate.

REWARD  
100 Sovereigns for Information Leading to the Arrest of Known Accomplices

Varric was standing in an instant, grabbing Hawke's arm and pulling her away from the terminal. He led her out of the airport, ignoring her sputtering, confused words. Nothing she was saying made sense, but Varric couldn't exactly hold that against her.

He pulled her to a stop in the middle of the parking lot, glancing around them quickly to ensure they were alone. When he did, he reached into his wallet and handed her all of the physical money he had. "You need to run." He said it calmly but firmly, forcing the royals and sovereigns into her hands. "Ditch your phone. Get to that hotel we stayed at in South Reach. Use a fake name, don't use any of your bank accounts. Hawke, are you listening?"

"I am," she whispered, but her glazed eyes said otherwise.

Varric shook her arms gently, dragging her face down to look him in the eyes. "Marian Hawke, I need you to listen. Get to South Reach. Get a disposable phone and wait. Don't call anyone, don't text anyone. Okay? You need to be as off-the-radar as you can. When it's safe, I'll get a message to the main desk."

"How will I know-" she mumbled.

"I'll leave it under the name Amell. Alright?" Hawke nodded listlessly, and Varric put his hands on her face. "Hawke, do you understand?"

Hawke's lower lip trembled. "What if Bethany... fuck, Varric, what do I do?"

Varric pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "All I know is that I need you to make sure you're safe. Alright?"

Hawke pulled back, swallowing, and nodded. Her voice was thick when she tried to joke, "So, I guess this is goodbye, Tethras."

Varric fished his hand into his pocket, retrieving his wallet - and the ring inside of it. He had pilfered it while they were in the thaig searching for the Tome of Koslun. He wasn't sure why he did it at the time - or he was, he just hadn't admitted it to himself yet. But when he had seen it, he thought of her. He had meant to give it to her earlier, but there had never seemed to be a good time. He had originally intended for it to be a gesture, a sweet gift. And then he thought about it being more than a gift. His joking proposal hadn't been as much of a joke as he had let on.

It wasn't the time or the place, but Varric was suddenly very worried that he would never see the dark-haired object of his affections again. He produced the ring and took her left hand. "Hold onto this for me."

Hawke blinked at him, staring at the ring just barely circling her nail. The flawless ruby in the middle of the silverite band shimmered in the sunlight. "Varric, I don't -- what?"

"Hold onto it for me," he repeated, sliding the ring over her knuckles and nestling it at the base of her finger. Somehow, it was a perfect fit. "You can give it back to me when we see each other again." Hawke watched him, unmoving, eyes glassy, and he pressed, "This isn't the proposal, Peaches. Just... keep it safe, okay? We'll see about wedding bells when we're all safe."

Her lower lip trembled, and she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He pulled back and said the hardest words he ever uttered. "I'll find her, Marian. No matter what. I will find her. Now... get going."

And then she did. Varric returned to the terminal, waving his papers and waiting through the lines all over again. He got onto the plane and didn't sleep at all on the flight. All he could think about was Hawke's smile and her arms around his neck, her fear for her sister and the ring around her finger.

An armed squadron of Templars and Seekers greeted him when he stepped into the Kirkwall terminal. The woman at the front, a dark-eyed Navarran, asked the words Varric had been preparing for all night.

"Where is Marian Hawke?"

Varric glanced around and noticed Meredith, and Carver, watching him. Meredith was smug; Carver was pale. Varric turned his gaze back to the Seeker in front of him. "I have no idea."

The woman didn't seem surprised, but she let out a disgusted noise and turned her attention to two men behind her. "Take him into custody. Varric Tethras, you are under arrest for bribing Templars to keep the mage Anders safe, for knowingly aiding and abetting the Mage Rebellion, and interfering with an investigation,"

Varric raised his arms in a surrounding motion, forcing a smile. "Can't say I know what you mean about that last part, Seeker."

The woman's scowl deepened, and one of her men came over to cuff Varric's hands behind his back. "Our investigation into Marian Hawke. As you are well aware, she financed Anders' clinic. She wasn't very discreet with her paper trail."

Varric wanted to swallow, but he didn't. He kept his smile in place. "Well, the first thing that tells me is that nothing nefarious was going on. Think about it, Seeker - if you were trying to fund the Mage Rebellion secretly, wouldn't you try to cover your tracks a little?"

The Seeker narrowed her eyes at him. Varric could tell his words affected her because her scowl deepened. "Take him," she said ominously, turning her back to him. To Meredith, she said, "We will be leaving a detachment here in Kirkwall-"

"That is unnecessary," Meredith breathed, the skin around her eyes crinkling. "We can manage the city as we always-"

"You do not want to make me repeat myself, Commander," the Seeker replied coldly before motioning for Varric and his handler to follow. The three left the terminal, Varric preparing himself for the interrogation of a lifetime.


	20. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke and Varric are worlds apart - and then collide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
> 
>  **Chapter Notes:** Fluff.
> 
> The song used for this final chapter is one of my current favorite _lovelorn lullabies._ Please enjoy this song, ["The Night We Met," by Lord Huron.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mORGLOz79w6VsCRLWYYuK) And, as always, please enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 

 

_Sweetheart,_

_I was finally let out. The interrogations lasted forever, and the shit these Seekers call food could really use some spice._

_Anyway._

_They're still watching, but I have some new faces on retainer. One of them should be able to get this to you. Another associate will be bringing you your share of the Arishok take. Expect him in a week or so._

_Take care of yourself. Please. I love you._

 

* * *

 

_Sunshine was in the Chantry._

_I'm so sorry._

_I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could hold you. Fuck, Peaches. I just... I can't find the words._

_I love you. I love you so much. Please eat. Please sleep. Please take care of yourself._

_I love you._

 

* * *

 

_Sweetheart,_

_The Seeker visited me today. She is planning to take me to Val Royeaux to state my case to the Divine. I'm not too sure when, if, I'll be able to write for a while._

_Please stay safe. Don't do anything stupid, like come to VR. Keep your gorgeous head down - I'll come for you when I can. I promise._

_Maker, Stone, if only I could hear your voice and touch your face._

 

* * *

 

_Sweetheart,_

_I've been counting the hours, and nothing seems real anymore. I still turn around to say something snarky to you, but you're not there. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you._

_I'm sorry. You don't need this on your shoulders, not now._

_It's late here; I might be a little drunk. We're on a flight to VR tomorrow morning, and I am intent on being hungover and slightly belligerent for it._

_I just keep thinking about that night, sitting across from you in the restaurant, beguiled and amazed that you even existed. How could something so perfect be sitting across from me, I wondered. It was like you came to life from the page of some awful novel, one where the heroine is too beautiful and charming to be real. But you were real. Are real._

_I'm sorry. I love you._

 

* * *

 

_Peaches,_

_I'm sure you've heard the news about the Temple. I'm safe. More importantly, you're safe. There's someone new in play - don't know much, but the Seeker called off the hunt for you._

_One of my associates is going to be in touch to get your new phone number. I'll call you when I get a new cell. Whatever type of explosion this thing was, it took down the power grids within 100 miles of us, destroyed electronics, leveled buildings older than some thaigs. There's a hole in the sky, and we're surrounded by demons. But I'm sure you know that. We haven't heard much, but it sounds like South Reach is at least safe from the tears. Even so. we're getting out of this mess. Keep your phone nearby and I'll call you._

_Maker, Marian. Stay safe. Please stay safe._

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Marian Hawke**

 

_Unknown Number 01:14 pm_

Marian, it's Varric.

 

_Me 01:15 pm_

Holy shit

_Me 01:16 pm_

Nice of you to finally send me a line, V.  I was starting to think you forgot about me

_Me 01:16 pm_

Call me? I need to hear your voice

 

_Unknown Number 01:18 pm_

In the middle of a round-table with the Inquisitor, can't break away for a call yet. 

_Unknown Number 01:20 pm_

How does Redcliffe sound for a reunion?

 

_Me 01:24 pm_

Andraste's tits, Varric, the Deep Roads would sound good for a reunion. When?

 

_Unknown Number 01:27 pm_

We're going to be leaving for the Hinterlands tomorrow. I haven't heard much except that it's rough out there, Peaches. Redcliffe should be mostly fine, I would guess; haven't heard anything contradicting it, anyway.

 

_Me 01:30 pm_

I'll get a room, then, and wait for you to rescue me from my golden tower - damsel that I am

 

Unknown Number 01:30 pm

Hah. You can't tell, but I just got a dirty look from the Seeker for snorting aloud. I think I'm in trouble now.

 

_Me 01:32 pm_

Well, perhaps you shouldn't be sexting with your lover

 

_Unknown Number 01:33 pm_

Oh, Hawke. If you think this is sexting, you're worse off than I am. We're going to need to remedy that. This.

_Unknown Number 01:35 pm_

Fuck, now all I can think about is your ass.

 

_Me 01:36 pm_

Flatter

_Me 01:37 pm_

Varric

_Me 01:37 pm_

I love you

 

_Unknown Number 01:38 pm_

I love you, too, Marian.

_Unknown Number 01:39 pm_

Redcliffe - I'll be there.

 

_Me 01:35 pm_

You'd better. I'm going to pack - call me when you can

 

 

* * *

 

Hawke swallowed as she stepped out of the hotel lobby for the first time in months only hours later. She shouldered her bags, squinting in the sunlight, and then hailed the closest taxi. Hawke slid her packs into the trunk before getting into the backseat, swallowing thickly. "Redcliffe."

The cabby frowned at her. "Redcliffe? Redcliffe's overrun with mages and demons, lady. There's no fucking way I'm going there."

Hawke opened her mouth to argue, to beg, to promise extra money, but her cell buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at the display of the cheap flip-phone. Varric. Her hands were shaking. She didn't know why his name was resulting in such a reaction; perhaps it was because this would be their first real conversation since her life was upended.

She flipped the phone open and pressed it to her ear. It took her a moment, but she finally said, "Hey, handsome."

The sigh on the other end of the line was one of relief. "Maker, Marian. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

Hawke felt the tears welling in her eyes, but she bit them back. "Varric, I'm sitting in a cab, but the driver won't take me to Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe is a no-go," he agreed. He sounded like he was grimacing. "Tevinter somehow got involved, and now the mages have gone crazy."

Hawke swallowed. She could hear what was coming in his voice; she could practically taste it. "You're staying with the Inquisition, aren't you?"

He was silent for a long time before whispering, "Peaches, I can't... I can't just leave them. Not like this. The world's on the brink of ending and I can't -- _fuck,_ I want to run. I want to get to you and... shit."

Hawke closed her eyes and let out a choked breath. With everything that had happened - the Chantry, Anders, Bethany, the Inquisition, the sky getting torn apart, the entire continent going to shit - she had held out hope on one single thing. Varric. Seeing him again, breathing in the aftershave she loved so much, kissing his lips and running her hands across the rough stubble of his jaw.

"Okay," she whispered, clearing her throat and trying again. "Okay. I get it."

"Marian-"

"Don't worry," she laughed, hoping it was more convincing over the phone than in person. "Just... try to call now and again?"

"Marian -- Maker, I'm going to be calling you every free minute," he replied with so much conviction that Hawke smiled. "You're going to begging me to give you a free moment within two days."

She snorted and ignored the cabby's annoyed huff. "I doubt that very much." They were both quiet, not wanting to call to end but knowing it had to. "Okay," she breathed, the first to break the silence. "Well, I'm going to go figure out what to do with my newfound freedom. Um... call me later?"

"This isn't an end, Peaches. Give us some time to stabilize and I'll bring you into Haven. Cassandra won't like it, of course, but she can fucking deal. Just... hold on for me, okay? I love you," Varric exhaled.

"Love you, too," she returned, swallowing down the burning lump in her throat as she closed the phone. The red gems in the ring on her left hand glinted in the sunlight. She glanced up at the cabby and forced a smile. "So, no Redcliffe. The Frostbacks - where's the closest you'll take me?"

The man thought about it, frowning at her. "Orzammar is mostly safe."

Hawke chuckled to herself, settling back in the seat and nodding. "I have a friend in Orzammar."

The cabby watched her for a few moments through the rearview mirror. "That's an expensive drive, miss."

Hawke wiggled her wallet out of her tight jeans and passed a 100 sovereign note to him. "You can keep the change."

The cabby didn't ask any other questions. Hawke busied herself with sending a text to one of Varric's associates.

 _Me 02:13 pm_  
It's Marian Hawke. I need Bee's number.

The response, a single phone number, came in swiftly. Hawke typed the number into her phone and called it, hoping beyond all hope that Bianca would answer.

On the fourth ring, a harried voice came over the line. "What?"

Hawke blinked, surprised. "Bogdan?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Um... you might not remember me. This is Marian Hawke, Varric's girlfriend. I was hoping I could talk to Bianca-"

"Hawke," he said, sounding a little less annoyed but only marginally. "Now is not the best of times-"

"I am coming to Orzammar as we speak," she said quickly. "I was hoping to stay with you for a while if that's alright. Just until I figure out what I'm doing. I can pay-"

"Hawke," he interrupted, "that's fine, but Bianca is in labor right now and I can't talk."

Hawke's mouth fell open in surprise. It _had_ been almost six months. "Holy shit. Holy... oh Maker, of course. I am so sorry! Go be with-" The line went dead. Hawke found herself clutching a silent phone, sitting in astonished reticence. Bianca was having her baby.

So much time had passed while Hawke had paced a hotel room floor, doing aggressive pushups and lunges to release her rage and hate and sorrow.

So much time since Bethany's death. So much time since a single word from her brother. So much time alone, sitting in a room with only a television to keep her company and the occasional visit from one of Varric's associates.

Hawke let out a choked noise and blinked back the tears that kept threatening to overwhelm her. Ignoring the tentative glances from the cabby, she let her shoulders shake, the droplets slipping from her clenched eyelids.

 

* * *

 

Three months. Three months.

It was hard for Hawke to wrap her brain around. Three months had passed; not five years. Not ten centuries. Three. Blighted. Months.

Hawke glanced at her phone for the fifth time in as many minutes, rocking the tiny dwarf child in her arms. She tried not to think about the ring still on her finger or the fact that it had been seven days since the evisceration of Haven, or that she hadn't heard from Varric once in that time. Varric always called every night. He never missed a phone call, no matter how tired he was or if he was in the Hinterlands or Val Royeaux.

There was a knock on the ajar door, and Bianca peeked her head in, smiling gently. "I thought I might find you in here. You're spoiling him, you know."

Hawke chuckled, unable to help it, and nuzzled the baby's wispy hair with her nose. He smelled clean, like cotton or fresh rain; it was something pure and natural. She'd leave the flowery descriptors to Varric. She winced and tried to ignore the searing pain in her chest at the casual thought. "I can't stay away, Bee. He's quite the charmer."

Bianca grinned, coming over to brush a finger loving across her son's cheek. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not yet," she sighed, kissing the baby's forehead and earning an annoyed grunt from him. She passed the baby over to Bianca and picked up her phone, checking to make sure the ringer was on. It was. "Thought of a name yet?"

Bianca frowned, wanting to comfort Hawke and not liking Hawke's refusal to let her. "It's dwarva custom to name babies at six months, Peaches. There's a naming ceremony and everything."

Hawke rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. "You lot and your superstitions."

"You can exclude me from that group, I think it's stupid," Bianca confided, her voice becoming higher and crooning as she looked down at her child. "Isn't that right, Demel?"

Hawke's smirk widened. "Demel Vasca. Not bad."

Bianca winked at Hawke before putting Demel back in his crib, whispering her love, before taking Hawke's arm. "Contrary to popular belief, I need to sleep sometime. So does he. Come on."

Hawke grabbed her phone and allowed Bianca to pull her away from the baby's room. They reached Hawke's guest bedroom too soon, and Bianca stopped outside of the door, holding Hawke's hands in hers. "He's alright, Marian. I know he is." Hawke felt herself nod numbly. "Come on," Bianca murmured, pulling her into her room.

Bianca helped Hawke into the bed before sliding in behind her, wrapping her arm around Hawke's middle. Hawke closed her eyes and tried to sleep, tried to focus on Bianca's humming and not the raw, wounded noises that wanted to tear from her throat.

"I'm so scared," she rasped suddenly.

Bianca's humming paused, and the woman held Hawke tighter. "I know, darling. So am I."

Hawke let out a choked sob, and Bianca kissed her shoulder, the humming beginning anew.

 

* * *

 

Hawke jolted awake, her phone shrilling through the room. Hawke grabbed for the phone, knocking it off of the side table on accident and cursing, dropping to the floor to search for it. She found it under the edge of the blankets pooled on the floor and snapped it open, not bothering to look at the display. "Varric?!"

"Peaches."

"Oh, thank the Maker," Hawke wheezed, holding her chest. "Varric, what the fuck were you thinking?! Where have you been?! Haven gets razed, and you don't call to let me know you're okay?!"

Varric chuckled weakly. Hawke could almost see him running a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed and disheveled and perfect. "I'm afraid running from an archdemon for two days, then being unconscious for six, didn't allow me much time. Plus I'm borrowing a nurse's phone; mine got destroyed, of course."

Hawke's heart was still hammering in her chest, trying valiantly to rip itself free and crawl to him. "Blight take you, Varric. Where are you?"

"A hospital in Redcliffe. The mages got driven out, I guess, not too sure on the details yet."

"I'm on my way," Hawke breathed, getting to her feet and rummaging for clean jeans in her overflowing, messy clothing corner.

"I'm leaving today," he said quickly. "The Inquisition found a new base, somewhere in the Frostbacks."

"Varric-" Hawke began, her voice choking out. She tried to breathe, to collect herself, but she gasped, "Varric, I can't keep doing this. I can't... I can't be out here, not knowing... not knowing you're-"

"I know," he interrupted soothingly. "I know. I... I have no right to ask you this, Marian, but... I want you by my side. I want you to help us. I know it's not your fight, but-"

"Give me directions, I'll be there," Hawke replied quickly, not even hesitating. She knew the Inquisition was doing good work, that they were just and true, but she didn't give a shit about that. She knew the world needed saving and, as a living, breathing human who wanted to stay living and breathing, she should be fighting. But at that moment, all she cared about was seeing Varric again. Seeing him before it was too late.

"I'll let you know when I know," he said, his voice thick. "Maker, Marian, I miss you."

"I'll see you soon," she promised, packing her bags with shaking hands. "I love you."

"I love you," Varric said at the same time, making Hawke's lips twitch into a sad smile.

 

* * *

 

**Varric Tethras**

Varric paced the courtyard, glancing down at his phone again. Her text had been quick and terse, telling him she was beginning her ascent up the mountain with one of their scouts. It had been six hours ago, more than enough time for them to arrive, but there was still no sign of them.

Cassandra sighed from behind him. Varric didn't have to look at her to know she was crossing her arms and glaring out at the scenery. She had been livid when he had admitted that he knew where Hawke was, that he'd always known. She'd been beside herself when he told her that Hawke was on her way to Skyhold Fortress. Even so, she'd withheld her urge to hit him - mostly due to their Inquisitor's insistence - and was now waiting impatiently, but quietly, with him.

The Inquisitor joined them after another hour slipped by, frowning from his chiseled, scarred face. "No sign?"

"None," Cassandra confirmed, straightening at the sight of their Qunari leader.

On a typical day, Varric would have teased her for her obvious crush. As it was, he was too preoccupied with the ridge and watching the trees cast longer, darker shadows. "We need to invest in getting some cell towers up here, Adaar," Varric said absently, making the Inquisitor's chuckle boom through the courtyard.

"I'll look into that as soon as we take down this Tevinter asshole with the archdemon pet, Tethras."

Varric didn't hear the last part, though, because two figures emerged over the ridge on horseback, the only feasible way to make the trip. Varric's heart swelled, and he shouted, "Open the gate, you idiots!"

The gate rolled up slowly on its ancient, outdated gears. It was only half raised by the time their scout and Hawke arrived.

Hawke jumped off of the horse and slipped in the snow, struggling to her feet and tearing toward Varric, letting out strange, strangled laughter as she did. Varric ran to her, meeting her just outside of the gates. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, her lips all over his face, her cheeks wet and laughter still burbling from her.

Varric held her for what felt like ages, his face buried in her short locks. He kissed her neck and breathed in the snow clinging to her coat. Varric kept whispering words, words he was sure didn't make sense, but it didn't seem to matter.

When they finally parted, Hawke wiped at her tears and smiled wetly. "Hey."

He laughed, unable to help it. "Hey, yourself." He helped her to her feet, leading her into the courtyard where Cassandra Adaar waited for them.

Hawke offered them both a tentative smile, running a hand through her hair. "I was expecting more to this welcoming party. Booze, mostly."

Cassandra opened her mouth, probably to snap something, but the Inquisitor placed a hand on her elbow, and she turned her glower to him. Adaar took it in stride, though, and smiled at Hawke. "We're pleased to have you, Hawke. I wish it were under better circumstances. Even so, you are here, and we are grateful for all the help we can get. Varric tells me you are an expert on ancient thaigs and artifacts? That can come in handy. I can't say any of us have any spelunking prowess, so it will be a nice addition to our knowledge base."

"I still have questions for you," Cassandra murmured, though her voice was softer than Varric had expected. She glanced at Hawke and Varric before sighing. "But I suppose that can wait until tomorrow. Varric, I assume you will be showing Hawke to her room?"

"My room?" Hawke repeated.

"My room," Varric assured her. He glanced at Cassandra, daring her to argue. To his surprise, she didn't. In fact, her lips twitched slightly in what might have been a smile. Varric hadn't ever considered that the Seeker had a romantic bone in her body; perhaps he should give her a copy of his old romance novel.

"Go on, then," the Inquisitor bade them. "Get rested and join us tomorrow for breakfast, both of you, in Josephine's office. We have much to discuss."

Hawke nodded, turning to accept her bags from their scout, shouldering them. "Thanks. I'll be there."

Varric tugged her hip gently, drawing her away from them. The pair didn't speak, but their hands found one another frequently; small touches on their backs, hips, elbows. Varric couldn't believe she was there, _right there,_ after so long. He wanted to stare at her for hours, recommitting every line and curve of her face, every slope of her body, to memory.

He stopped suddenly when they entered Skyhold, glancing around the hall. The fortress was still mostly decrepit in spite of the craftsmen working night and day to restore it. Even so, Skyhold had wonders hidden throughout her bones.

Hawke peered down at him peculiarly, opening her mouth to ask what the matter was, when Varric looked up at her. "I want to show you something."

Hawke's lips tilted up. "I thought we would wait to get into your room, but I am sure the others wouldn't mind a quicky in their entryway."

Varric snorted. Maker, he loved her. "One-track mind, Peaches? I thought I told you to work on that."

"Oops," was her only response.

Varric smirked and pulled her further into the hallway, carefully stepping over felled beams and rotted pillars. He pushed open a recently-cleared door, the hinges squealing piteously, and pulled Hawke inside.

Hawke inhaled loudly, surprised, dropping her packs and gasping, "Holy shit, Varric."

His grin widened as he descended the short flight of stairs into the cavern, the roar and rush of the waterfall just outside of the opened room drowning out his footsteps. "It might not be the grotto your promised me, but it's something."

Hawke descended the steps quickly, jogging to catch up to Varric while staring, open-mouthed and amazed, at the wet stone and waterfall. "This is amazing," she breathed. "Right here in the middle of... Maker, this _is_ something."

Varric watched her for a moment before taking her left hand. The ring was still there, still glinting. "You kept it safe for me." He slowly slid it off of her finger, ignoring her sudden look of hurt.

"I was getting quite attached to it," she murmured.

"I'm glad," Varric murmured, looking at the rubies and the silverite. "Because I can't wait anymore. This was supposed to be something romantic - candles, a hot tub, champagne. The works. But I can't wait anymore. I can't risk dying without you knowing how serious I am about you. About us."

"Varric," Hawke whispered, barely audible over the waterfall.

"Marian Hawke-"

"Yes!" she yelped immediately.

Varric smirked. "You need to wait for the question, Peaches. That's how this shit works."

She pursed her lips, trying to look serious in spite of the glittering excitement in her eyes.

"Marian Hawke, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Hawke dropped to her knees for the second time and wrapped him in a tight hug that nearly knocked his breath out of his lungs. He held her to him, amazed and humbled that she was finally in front of him. He was finally whole. "This is where you say yes, Peaches," he whispered.

She giggled against his neck, pulling back to grin at him. "You're just doing all of this to get me naked, aren't you?"

"You found me out." He slipped the ring back onto her finger, meeting her pale blue eyes with his. "What can I say, dramatic flair drops panties much faster than romance ever could."

Hawke kissed him, messy with tears and bumping noses. It was the best kiss Varric had ever had.

"Yes," Hawke whispered when she pulled back, grinning like a schoolgirl.

Varric kissed her again, and again, his lips covering hers and trailing down her jaw and neck. Her breath was growing ragged, her hands roaming to his belt when he covered her hands with his. "How about we get into my room? There's a fireplace, and a bearskin rug just asking to have you naked on top of it."

Hawke bit her lower lip, eyes sparkling. "My goodness, Tethras, you know exactly what to say to woo a girl. Who says romance couldn't drop panties?"

Maker, he loved that woman.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! There may be a sequel story that takes us through a modern Inquisition, but I'm still not entirely sure. We'll see, I guess! I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope you all have a fantastic day/night! xoxoxo, Red


End file.
